


the one that got away

by haylssunflowerx, thewaterymellen



Category: Victorious (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name. Fusion, Based on a Katy Perry Song, F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name., Major Character Undeath, Minor Character Death, OOC Jade West, OOC Tori Vega, Self-Harm, Song: The One That Got Away (Katy Perry), Suicide Attempt, Texting Convos, because we suck at writing, body swapping, but it was the best we could do, it lowkey kinda sucks, so all the characters are ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 75,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haylssunflowerx/pseuds/haylssunflowerx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaterymellen/pseuds/thewaterymellen
Summary: After showing Carly Shay that her life would be terribly different if her brother was born normal, the abnormal angel Mitch is eager to teach people to be careful for what they wish for.Two completely unrelated girls simultaneously wish for a life that is much like the other’s, and Mitch decides that the opportunity is too great to pass up. With a little snicker and a smirk, he works his (slightly dysfunctional) magic.One Hollywood morning, Tori wakes up in Jade’s body, and she brushes it off as a dream.Meanwhile, in Sherwood, California, Jade wakes up in Tori’s body and also assumes it’s a dream.They begin to find notes from the other person, and both girls have to accept the fact that they're switching bodies. After weeks of communicating digitally, they seem to grow closer and connect in a way neither of them has before, despite the fact they've never met. But while this is all true, neither of them can remember much about the other when they wake up.Both try to seek the other out with no avail, but when something more than distance is separating them, how can they ever meet?But then, maybe it is a dream after all. Because dreams fade when you wake up, don’t they?
Relationships: Tori Vega & Jade West, Tori Vega/Jade West
Comments: 86
Kudos: 79





	1. October 6th

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Your Name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10180625) by [lostariels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostariels/pseuds/lostariels). 



> Work Title from Katy Perry's The One That Got Away (but I hear the Brielle Von Hugel version).

“Every so often, when I wake up in the morning, I find myself crying. I can never remember the dream I must have had, but the sensation that I’ve lost something lingers for a long time after I wake up. I’m always searching. For something, for someone. I think I know when this feeling possessed me. Just one day comes to mind. That day… the day when the world exploded and went up in flames… literally. It was like a scene from a dream. Nothing more, nothing less than a mere fantasy, a dream, because I can’t remember, I can’t see the details, no matter how hard I try.”

* * *

She’s dashing through the halls, a cup of hazelnut coffee in her hands. She’s late for class, and she flinches as the off-key bell rings, signaling the start of the first period, making the hot liquid slosh from the tiny hole in the cup’s cap.

“Chiz!” she wipes her hand across her shirt, sipping a little more of the drink before tossing it in the trash can. She feels a tug in her bladder, and she groans, cursing herself for deciding to buy more than one cup of coffee today.

She pushes her way into the girls’ bathroom, figuring she’s already late. Besides, she can’t be late for Physical Education anyway, considering the girls change so slowly in the locker room. 

Clumsily pushing her way into the handicap stall (because it’s the one parallel to the door, and it’s the biggest stall), her feet tap restlessly across the shiny tiled floor as she hangs her backpack on the hook. 

With a gentle snap of her wrist and a soft crinkle, the seat cover is balanced precariously on top of the toilet bowl. Another moment and her belt is unbuckled, the ends hanging loosely in front of her.

She remembers to remove her PearPhone from her back pocket just as she pulls down her jeans, and yelps loudly as it falls, hitting the toilet seat before plunging to the floor with a soft crack. Both sounds echo in the empty bathroom, and she winces.

Gingerly picking it up, she spares a glance at the screen, sighing at the tiny jagged crack that now makes its way across the corner. 

“At least it seems to be only the screen protector,” she mutters to herself, running a thumb across the small fissure. Shen then remembers where she is and why she’s there, and that she has to wazz, bad.

She aggressively yanks her pants down the rest of the way, plopping heavily on to the seat before realizing with a defeated moan that the seat cover had fallen in, the cold (and not-so-clean) porcelain chilling the flesh of her thighs. 

She does nothing about it though, because it isn’t like she can stop the stream of wazz anyway. Instead, she clicks her phone on, unlocking her device to see she’s received a few texts from her sister. 

“At least she’s enjoying UCLA,” the brunette huffs bitterly, wondering how her unarguably untalented sister can even get into such a school. 

Sherwood High School is just another high school, after all, ranking in the latter half of the 2000s nationally. 

Hollywood Arts, on the other hand, is a private school, and a very prestigious one at that. Of course, it had looked astounding on her college applications, including the fact she’d had her one-woman show and plenty of other accomplishments on top of that.

The girl steps out of the stall glumly, bag hanging off one shoulder, phone back in her pocket, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She’s willing to admit that she’s above average, beauty-wise. She’s got high cheekbones and beautiful brown eyes. 

“I’m supposed to go to college next year,” she murmurs, not breaking eye contact with her reflection as she leans over the sink. “Maybe it would’ve been a great idea to try out for Hollywood Arts.”

After a bombing that had taken place about three years ago, there had been far too many openings in the staff and students. They had shut down the school for one year to rebuild the staff and audition more students for the hope they could carry on like most of the students and the staff hadn’t been annihilated due to a single explosion.

Trina had been accepted as an eighth-grader way before. Somehow. They’d taken her, and she had not attended the showcase that year, her Sophmore year, because she hadn’t wanted to. She still goes around bragging that God had chosen her to live, or something about Fate, and how someone as talented as her was chosen to survive.

“I mean,” she adds snarkily, “if someone like Trina could get in, I’m sure I could’ve as well.” 

And there it is. The regret. She rubs her hands together under the cool stream of water, glancing down with a sigh, “I  _ really  _ wish I got into Hollywood Arts. Then choosing a college wouldn’t be such a stressful time.”

She groans as she switches off the water, not even bothering for a paper towel, instead opting to wipe her hands on her pants. It’s faster that way anyway. 

She pushes her way out of the bathroom, slipping quietly through the halls to arrive at her first class of the day: P.E. She mutters under her breath that she probably wouldn’t have to take that if she went to Hollywood Arts, and shuffles her way into the girls’ locker room. 

Outside the girls’ bathroom (not inside, because he’s male, and that’s creepy), a tiny man listens to her intently, a smirk playing across his face as he pricks his ears, musing over the possibilities of what he can do.

He’s driven for his desire to acquire some much-needed wings, anyway.

* * *

She tilts her head back, tipping the paper cup over her lips so it’s almost perpendicular to the ceiling, her raven hair streaked with blue and green highlights tumbling from black lace-covered shoulders. She swallows as the last drops of the scalding hot coffee disappears down her pale throat, burning a trail of pain followed by numbness she welcomes with a small smile. She swipes her tongue across the opening, savoring the taste of the caffeinated drink for one more moment before she tosses the cup into the trash can beside her.

Her eyes follow the dark-skinned man, the guidance counselor, Lane, who pushes through the hallway, with a paper held close to his chest. It’s the cast reveal for the first play of the year.

Even the seniors shrink back when the black-haired freshman surges forward, her porcelain hand gripping her favorite pair of scissors, titanium alloyed blades slightly parted and glinting in the indoor lighting. She abruptly halts in front of the list the moment the counselor tapes it up, the clack of her boots ceasing on the hard floor.

She feels like she should’ve expected it, really. At one of the most prestigious art schools in the country, Hollywood Arts, she should’ve expected that the seniors, the students three grades ahead of her would beat her out for the play’s lead. 

Yet, she still feels disappointment burning in her gut— or maybe it’s the coffee that was still hot the moment the last drop left the cup. She’s talented. She knows she is. And it infuriates her that while worse actors, they still have better chances.

Fudge seniors and their senior perks. 

While she wants to go home and sob into her pillow, she curls her lip in a snarl, her fingers squeezing the scissors closed. Students hop back as she storms away, her chin high, boots clicking above the chatter of excitement from the student body.

She heads towards her first class; she hates people— maybe hate is a strong word. She  _ despises _ other people, and in this mood, she doesn’t feel like dealing with them, so she steps in the classroom, and shuts the door behind her, relieved the teacher isn’t here.

The pale-skinned girl sighs as she sits in her usual seat, throwing her bag on the floor next to the chair. The classroom lacks tables anyway, so she doesn’t need to grab anything from her bag. 

_ I need more coffee, _ she taps her foot on the gray carpeting, glancing towards the clock as if time would go slower that way.

“Stupid play,” she buries her head in her hands, not surprised to find her voice shaking. “I wish  _ I _ were a senior, and then maybe I’d have the lead. Or maybe even if I went to a normal public school. I’d easily beat out everyone there. God, I just wish I was done with high school.”

Her voice increases in volume from one word to the next, and by the end, she’s almost shouting.

She has to stop when the balding teacher steps in from the other door, yet another coconut held in his palm. A straw is sticking out from a small hole in the top, and the strange man wraps his lips around it, sucking the liquid from inside the fruit.

He takes no notice of the sulking girl, as he sits down on the small raised platform that acts as a stage for the classroom, his bare feet wiggling on the carpet. 

Soon enough, the bell has rung, and she’s out of her seat to her next class, but before that, she checks by the cast list one more time to make sure she hadn’t been hallucinating the first time.

The names and words stay the same.

The black-haired girl can feel the fierce burn in her gut get worse, and she digs her nails into her palm, leaving crescent-shaped indentations. But the pain is almost welcoming.

Her second period is a repeat of the first, except her teacher wears shoes and isn’t bald. Oh, and this one also doesn’t drink coconut milk that gives him visions and is pretty sane. Compared to Sikowitz, anyway. 

He doesn’t notice Jade’s sulky behavior, but if he does, he doesn’t pay attention to it. Not like he ever paid attention to her.

The rest of the day stretches on and on, and she stares glumly at her nails and her hands and picks things out of her nails with scissors. It seems like years before the final bell rings, and then the goth is all too ready to get out of Hollywood arts.

_ If I were a normal girl that didn’t go to an art school, I would have definitely gotten the roles. Hell, maybe even both the main roles! _

As she storms outside, her mother is waiting for her, absently scrolling through her phone. The actor rips open the door and plops herself on the passenger seat, ignoring all her mother’s attempts to ask about the play, because she does  _ not _ need her mom to know that she didn’t get the part.

The second the car is put into park, the girl is in her house and in her room. At least she’s avoided the questions.

The goth thinks her mom will let the question slide, but just as she’s thinking about it again, the doorknob twists and the thespian is holding her scissors in front of her defensively.

It’s her mom.

“What?” she snaps.

“Did you get the lead?” 

Her stupid mom with her stupid questions and stupid resilience.

She ignores her.

“I know you heard me.”

No response.

And there’s the full name. First, middle, last pouring out of the woman’s mouth.

As soon as her full name leaves her mother’s mouth, her head snapping up, her fiery blue eyes meeting her mom’s defensive ones.

The thespian gets her defiance from her mother. She stares angrily into blue-green depths, and her mother stares back. A silence stretches between the two people in the room, a thick, heavy tension weighing heavily on the younger one, pressuring her to speak. But she doesn’t. Because her mother looks away first, and she thinks she’s won. But just as she’s turning around to resume her work, her mother speaks.

“You didn’t get it, did you?” her voice is echoing, ringing in the goth’s ear, and the walls are closing in around her. It’s not malicious, but it’s edged with disappointment, frustration, exasperation.

And she blinks, just enough to push the thought away.

She says nothing, the only movement indicating she’s heard her mother the slight raise of a studded brow.

Her mother steps closer, and she inhales sharply, ready for the obnoxious words to leave her mother’s mouth.

_ In five. Four. Three. Two… (I know, you see, somehow the world will change for me and be so wonderful ding ding dong) _

“That’s the third play this year you haven’t gotten the lead in. You know, you’re in an art school for a reason.” she starts, and there’s already frustration dripping from her lips.

“Yeah, the fact that you put me in an art school means that the people are better too. Do you understand what an art school is?” the freshman snarls back.

“Yeah. It’s supposed to prepare you for your future career. I don’t see how not getting the lead  _ three _ times in a row is supposed to help you!” she tries to keep her voice low and controlled to the point where it’s trembling.

“I’m a freshman. I’m a freaking freshman. I have three and a half years to get the lead,  _ Mother _ ,” she’s almost spitting now.

“Do you think agents are looking for seniors? Who are already given the lead roles because it’s their last year? They want freshmen that have enough talent to beat the seniors to the main roles,  _ daughter _ .”

“You know  _ nothing, _ ” she hisses, slamming her hands against her desk, pushing her figure up and out of her black swivel chair. “You just want me to get all the lead roles because you were too much of an untalented priss to even make yourself a living in the industry!” she snarls, malice dripping from the corners of her lips.

She storms past her mother, her eyes blazing with blue fire, locking herself in her closet. Still holding her scissors, she sits in the far corner, under her clothes, her chest heaving in anger, and bumps her head against the wall.

Her mother mutters something unintelligible and sniffs, closing the door to her daughter’s room as she walks back upstairs to the living room. As much as the girl in the closet wants to spit back a witty remark, she presses her lips together and sighs, burying her head in her hands as repeats her wish. 

“It’d be nice to have a normal teacher, and attend a normal school,” she grunts under her breath, too quietly for anyone to hear.

But someone  _ does  _ hear her.

Outside the room, standing in the dim overcast of the morning, the same stout man— Mitch, he calls himself— standing barely four feet tall crosses his arms, sucking his teeth as his eyes light up with yet another crazy idea.

He wants wings anyway, and he’s determined to get them. 


	2. october 7th

Loud music startles Tori Vega from her deep slumber. It’s not the usual music she listens to; it’s loud, shrieking rock, and she sits up, eyes widening at the unfamiliar room she wakes up in. 

A scream bursts out of her throat when she catches sight of a huge poster plastered onto the wall with several pieces of clear tape. It’s a gruesome picture; it’s a girl, but her flesh seems to be rotting, her eyes glinting with malice, lips pulled back to reveal blackened teeth bared in a snarl. She’s clutching a pair of silver scissors, its blades parted and gleaming, fresh scarlet blood glistening on the sharp blades.

Under that, in jagged letters that drip with blood, spells out _THE SCISSORING._

Tori shudders and muses that it’s a terrible— and not entirely appropriate— name for a film, looking away. She eyes the rest of the room warily, bracing herself for possibly other scares, but she only spots jars with unknown objects floating inside. There are glass objects which seem to be a couple of glass panes with black butterflies pinned between them, and various animal skulls lying on the shelves.

“You okay?” A voice shouts from the other side of the door.

“What?” she almost chokes when she hears the sound of her voice. It’s… different.

“I heard a scream,” the voice sounds almost confused now. She frowns at the sound of it. She’s never heard it before.

“I’m fine,” Tori replies softly, “Something just scared me.”

“Jade?”

She doesn’t answer, her lips turning down. She’s tempted to ask when the woman outside means by jade. The color, or the stone…

The door swings open, and a brunette steps in. The first thing Tori notices are her dazzling blue-green eyes, green enough to vaguely resemble the stone. She feels like she should recognize her, but she doesn’t.

“Jade, are you okay?”

She’s about to tell this woman her name isn’t Jade, but the woman looks concerned, in a motherly way. So she just nods.

“I’ll… go get breakfast ready,” she steps out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. “Stop your alarm,” she calls, any trace of concern slipping from her tone.

Tori does just that and just sits there. She can hear her breathing increase as she looks around the unfamiliar room, the walls black as night. There’s a red armchair in the corner, with a similarly colored lamp. 

She wants to say that her name is Tori, not Jade, and that she doesn’t know what’s going on. She wants to say she doesn’t know where she is and that she doesn’t remember anything, but she has a feeling the woman (her mom?) will just look confused.

When she stands up, she’s suddenly aware of the extra weight… on her chest. What?

Her mouth parts slightly in shock and confusion, as she looks down at her body. It’s not her own body.

But it _is_ making her blush because when she looks down, she can see a decent amount of cleavage in her loose pajama top. She can’t help but run her hand across her breasts, wrapping her fingers around the extra weight she usually doesn’t have on her chest, mildly wondering if it’s a dream.

If it is a dream… Tori runs to the bathroom and looks into the mirror, leaning forward with a gasp when she catches sight of herself.

The first thing she notices is the eyes. Her breath catches in her throat at the pale blue-green that shines through her dull, pale face, and something about them makes her feel giddy. They’re just like the woman’s, but arguably brighter. While they’re relatively the same, she can’t pinpoint why these soft orbs staring back at her make her feel this way. 

The second thing she notices is her skin color. It’s pale, like her eyes. Really, really pale. Almost white. 

She doesn’t remember being this pale. She was born with almost bronze skin, being half-Latina.

She runs her hands across her cheek, and the woman in the mirror does the same. She’s aware of an eyebrow piercing and a nose stud adorning her face. The jewelry gleams in the light.

“I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming, I’m dreaming,” she whispers, leaning forward even more so that her black curls fall over her shoulders, dangling over her unusually full breasts. Her arms are propped on the sink, and that’s when she sees the nautical star tattoo on her right forearm. 

Her gaze drops to her chest in the mirror, and she finds herself fighting off a blush. She has to shake her head to clear the daze she’s in, and she grabs a black toothbrush. It’s the only one, so she assumes it’s hers and squeezes a small dollop of the toothpaste sitting on the counter. It shouldn’t have surprised her, but she gasps anyway as a dark, black paste comes out of the tube. _Stupid charcoal._

Her eyes wander for a cup, but she doesn’t spot one, so she cups her hands and fills it with water before bringing it to her lips to wet her mouth. After spitting it out, she shoves the toothbrush in her mouth, almost coughing at the taste of mint. 

God, she hates mint. 

She rapidly brushes her teeth, not bothering to do it for the full two minutes, and rinses her mouth quickly.

When she’s done, she’s not sure what to wear for the day. Does she go to school? Or does she go to work? Maybe she’s a little too young for work if she’s still living in her mom’s house...

Tori looks at her closet, running her hand through the mostly black fabric, a lot of it lace. Her eyebrows furrow at the limited options. She usually doesn’t wear black, so she finds the lightest thing: a gray t-shirt with a red flannel over it. She grabs a pair of tight black jeans, glad to be wearing something that is at least a little familiar.

She throws off her loose shirt, realizing too late she doesn’t have a bra on. She gulps at the sight of her breasts because— oh God and _what in the name of chiz is happening to her?_

She has to refrain from touching this body that is apparently hers, so she puts on the first bra she sees and throws on the top, her heart pounding in her chest.

Tori has to sit back down on the bed to steady herself, and when someone, presumably her— or at least Jade’s brother barges in, her hands have wandered back to her chest.

“They _feel_ real,” she mutters to herself, freezing like a deer caught in the headlights when the door swings open, slamming into the wall with a loud _bang_ that rattles the entire bottom floor.

“Jade! Hurry up, you’re gonna be late for schoo-” He frowns at the girl who he probably thinks is his sister, “Why are you touching your boobs?”

Well, now she knows that whoever Jade is, goes to school. 

“Go away,” she yelps, lunging towards the door, but it slams closed before she gets to it. Back now against the door, Tori slides down until she’s sitting on the hardwood floor, which is strange because she’s used to carpeting on her bedroom floor. “What’s going on?” she breathes, but another shout from the little boy has her running out of the room, only to scramble back to grab her now-black PearPhone.

She makes it up the stairs since her room is the basement of the house, and stops when she sees the fancy dining room in front of her.

“Morning, Jade,” the brunette woman tells her, “You’re late.” She freezes when she catches sight of Tori, eyes flicking up and down her body.

She panics for a moment, wondering if this isn’t something Jade usually wears, but the woman’s gaze is fixed on her face.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine!” she snaps, and the woman’s (her mother?) face relaxes.

 _Oh, so whoever this Jade girl is, is snappy and rude,_ Tori concludes.

“Why are you standing there? Get your backpack and your shoes!” her mom frowns again. Tori wonders if this is the type of mom who views looking after her children a tedious job.

“Oh, right,” Tori hastily backtracks, rapidly trotting downstairs until she’s in her room again. She can’t see tennis shoes, but there are a few pairs of boots by the door, so she slips on one that looks decent with her outfit. Her foot prods something cold as she retracts it immediately, reaching in with her hand to pull out a pair of scissors.

_What?_

She sets it down on the nearest bookshelf and checks the other shoe before slipping them on.

There isn’t a backpack in sight, so she rummages through the few bags that are scattered around the room until she finds one that has a few folders and notebooks in it. 

It’s promptly hoisted onto her shoulder, her phone dropped inside, and she goes back into the dining room, heading for the door. She almost flinches when her mother yells at Jasper to do the same.

 _So my brother’s name is Jasper_ , she notes. _That’s cool. Jade and Jasper, both gemstones. Cute._

She’s at the door before she pauses, “Uh, mom?”

Her mother turns, surprise flashing across her face at the name, and Tori makes a mental note to never call her _mom._ “Yes?”

“Uh… where do I go to school again?” She flushes, her heart pounding when her mom looks worried, eyes narrowing. 

“Hollywood Arts, remember? Are you sure you’re okay Jade-”

She doesn’t hear the rest, because she has already closed the front door.

And then it hits her. 

“Hollywood Arts,” she breathes in awe at the name of the infamous school. The child part of her who has always hoped magic existed is jumping up and down, while the more mature, logical part of her is absolutely flustered and terrified at what is happening to her.

Who’s life is she living in this dream? 

A grin bursts on her face when she catches sight of the iconic Hollywood Sign, hazy in the distance, but still bright against the dull land where it’s built upon. 

At first glance, the world in front of her looks vaguely like the home in Sherwood she is used to, but after a little more studying, she notices it’s a little more urban. 

The door swings open, and Tori yelps, hopping backward to avoid getting hit with the metal door. 

“What are you doing? You’re 14. You’re not driving. Get in my car!”

Oh, so whoever Jade is, is fourteen years old. Tori looks down at the body she’s in and flushes, mentally scolding herself for even wondering if she is old enough to go to work. 

She yanks open the passenger door and plops inside, already wanting the dream to end. “It feels way too real,” she sighs, watching the little boy and her apparent mother climb in.

“Jadelyn August West,” her mother starts, and Tori’s eyes widen at the full name, ‘What’s going on with you today? You’re not yelling at me like usual, but you’re not acting like I don’t exist either. You’re not wearing the highlights you usually wear to wazz me and your father off,” she just studies the girl sitting there uncomfortably, adding with a softer voice, “Not that I want you to do all of that, but you’re not acting normal. Have you lost your mind?”

The girl shrinks in her seat, strapping her seatbelt over her shoulder wordlessly. _So Jade wears piercings and highlights and has a tattoo. Don’t you need to have parental consent if you’re under eighteen?_

Mrs. West— Tori knows her last name now— only sighs, beginning to back out of the driveway. She doesn’t realize she hasn’t answered, but she keeps her mouth shut anyway. The ride is awkwardly silent the way to school; even Jasper doesn’t utter a single word.

The moment they pull up to the parking lot, Tori jumps out, stumbling away from the black vehicle, “Jade!” a voice calls from the car, “We’re having a talk after school!”

She doesn’t bother to grumble a reply, and just slips through the familiar tables of the cafe outside, barging into the double doors. The inside, however, is slightly less familiar, and she has to dart frantically through the hallways, looking for a bathroom she can go look for her schedule in. She darts into the first girls’ room she sees, rummaging through her messy bag, relieved when she pulls up a small paper that has her schedule, its crumpled form probably from the beginning of the school year that was several months ago. 

“First class,” Tori squints at the paper, frowning at the teacher’s name, “Acting with… Sick-oh-wits? Or is it Sike-oh-wits?” And there, it hits her, “Oh my God, I’m at an art school… I’m taking an acting class.”

She’s equal parts terrified and excited, and she has to wander the halls for a good five minutes before she finds the right classroom number at the end of the hallway.

She peeks her head in, but a boy with almost shoulder-length hair (he’s kinda cute, is her first thought) takes one look at her and stands up.

The teacher, Sikowitz, Tori assumes, calls out, “Beck! Where are you going?” 

“I’ll be back,” he answers indifferently, and the half-Latina (now about fifty shades paler in this body) tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as he approaches.

But he ignores that, and just interlocks their fingers, dragging her out of the hallway, back into the main hall with all the colorful lockers. He makes a sharp left and pulls her into the door marked “JANITOR,” promptly shutting the door behind them.

“Jade? What in the name of chiz?” 

“What?” she stammers.

It occurs to her suddenly— the way he looks at her, and the way he grabbed her hand earlier— this—very cute— boy is her boyfriend.

“Where are you- what happened to your highlights? Are you okay?”

She winces when his voice increases in volume, “I… er, I… forgot them?”

His eyebrows furrow and he squints at her, “What?”

So she tries again, “Uhm… I forgot… where I put them?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Beck,” Tori answers, already exasperated by multiple people asking her the same question, “Can we just go to class?”

Someone knocks at the door, and in the little window on the door, she spots unnaturally bright red hair. Just as the door swings open, and the girl opens her mouth, she shouts, “Go away!”

It’s not intentional; she’s just completely fed up with the dream that’s slowly becoming a nightmare, and it’s not even nine in the morning. 

He grins at the dramatic eye roll and sigh that follows her words, “There’s my girl.”

Tori reasons to herself that if she’s rude and snappy all day, no one will suspect anything. Not that hard considering she’s already completely sick of it.

“Guys, Sikowitz _really_ wants you back in class!” The redhead insists.

_So it’s pronounced Sike-oh-wits._

They head back to class, and the half-Latina can’t help the way her eyebrows shoot up at the sight of the teacher. She suspects he can’t be over forty, but there’s barely a hair on the top of his head; fuzz sticks out in tufts above his ears and neck. His outfit is… nowhere near formal attire. Her first thought is that he looks homeless, but he’s teaching a class, so, obviously, he isn’t. 

As her boyfriend leads her over to her usual seat (thank God), she notices that this peculiar man is completely barefoot, his toes splayed out on the gray carpet on full display. She tries to recall anything her sister has said about the school, but nothing about this _Sikowitz_ comes to mind.

“Jade,” the teacher speaks, “Why the new look?”

Tori can’t think of a rude reply, so she just mutters, “Shut up.” To her surprise, he does, and on goes the class. She’s slouched in her plastic chair (there’s no table), arms crossed, but a couple of other students are as well. Besides, Sikowitz doesn’t object. 

She zones out halfway because he ends up dedicating the remaining half-hour to tell his life’s story. Well, a long, dull story from when he went to a foreign country called Berya, or something like that.

The trill of the bell startles her, and she jumps, pushing herself to her feet as everyone does. The strange teacher just cuts off his story and waves at them to leave from his spot sitting on a raised platform that seems to double as a stage.

When she reaches the door, Beck taps her.

“Yeah?” she murmurs tiredly, just wanting to wake up already. The science nerd part of her wonders if she’s lucid dreaming if she’s able to control the events of her dream, but the thought is swept away when the long-haired boy offers to walk her home since she’s apparently “not feeling well.”

“Sure, thanks, babe.” She tests out the pet name, having never really called someone that, and he just gives her a rather confused, but dazzling smile.

They walk out the front door like it’s nothing, and begin the trek back home. It takes about three-quarters of an hour, seeing it’s only about a five-minute drive.

She tries to answer Beck’s questions as little as possible, and after about fifteen minutes, he’s stopped talking, clearly seeing she just wants quiet. 

Unfortunately, what he doesn’t see is that the girl trapped inside this body isn’t the Jade West he knows, and Tori just wants to shout that she’s Tori, that she has no idea what’s going on, but that would only complicate things.

When they arrive at her front door, she just nods at the boy, and ruffles through her bag to try to find the house key.

“Under the rug.”

“Huh?”

“Spare key is under the rug, remember?”

“Oh, um, yes, right,” she flushes and bends down to reach her hand under the mat on the doorstep.

Before she can push it in the keyhole, Beck turns her head and kisses her softly on the lips. She feels as if she should be happy— more than happy, _giddy_ that a boy this attractive has kissed her, but she feels nothing except for his rough lips, slightly dry and clumsy on hers.

“Are you gonna go home too?” she asks, her usually kind nature peeking out.

He just shakes his head, “If I run back, I’ll make it in time for fourth,” he shrugs.

“You sure?”

A nod this time.

“What about-”

“Lunch with the gang? I’ll tell them you went home ‘cause you weren’t feeling well. You’re cute when you worry.”

Tori wonders what Jade would say in the situation, so she just replies, “Don’t call me cute,” and then she adds, “And I’m not worried.”

She just thinks she’ll give this Beck guy a little kindness since he seems to be a nice dude, who seems to be fine with dealing with Jade, who doesn’t seem so nice.

Her boyfriend just laughs, already walking away, “I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

“‘Kay,” she responds unenthusiastically and pushes the key into the lock to unlock the door.

When it swings open, she suddenly freezes, suddenly scared that Jade’s mom is home, but the house is empty, and with a deep sigh, she makes her way to her basement room, bracing herself for the gory poster.

Despite being prepared, it still startles her, and she throws down her bag by the floor. A notebook catches her eye, and she approaches it warily as if it could snap at her, picking up the black leather notebook carefully.

There’s a moment of hesitation before she opens it; she’s always hated invading personal space, but she’s curious to know who this girl is. _Besides,_ she tells herself, _it’s only a dream._

She flips through the pages, reading through random entries including a list of things she hates, which strangely enough, includes bras that hook in the front and ducks. Tori smiles at some of the things, concluding that loathing wet doorknobs is pretty reasonable.

Before long, she’s reached the first blank page, and she feels as if she should leave something, although she’s most likely ever going to go back to that dream life. So she pulls the black pen that’s tucked in the spirals of the journal and scribbles _Who are you?_ on the page. She tucks the pen back in by the clip and sets it back down exactly where it was.

She pulls out her phone next, scrolling through the contact list, unlocking the phone after she finds the code in the little diary, using the passcode 5-2-3-3, which Tori realizes with a chuckle spells out J-A-D-E on the number pad. So this girl is a bit of a narcissist.

She looks at the contact pictures as she scrolls through the pictures and text messages and emails and just about everything on the phone, committing to memory the names and faces, although she probably will never see them again.

From the little information on her phone and items sitting on her desk, she realizes this.

Jade is not exactly goth, but by the way she dresses, everyone classifies her as that. She usually wears blue, green, pink, or purple streaks in her hair, every day. She has a nose ring and an eyebrow ring. She’s a writer and an amazing one at that. 

Story after story is poured out in PearNotes and ZaplookDocs, ideas and quotes, and heartbreaking dialogue ideas scrawled in handwriting she can barely make out in her notebooks. Poem after poem is scratched into margins and put as captions for pictures on social media and in her drafts on JoulePad and published into stories in Chronicles Of Our Own. She writes _The Scissoring_ fanfiction on fanfiction.com and is a quite popular author in the fandom, apparently.

Cat is the name of the girl with the synthetically red hair.

Andre’s the guy with the dreads who is often confused by their crazy teacher.

Beck is her boyfriend, who is, while often emotionless and indifferent, still a sweet guy.

She shuts off the phone, wondering how Jade’s life really is. It was interesting, really, and something about living this life in her dreams separate from her own— even if it’s just for a day— makes her smile to herself. It’s refreshing, just living a life she doesn’t know.

Her mind wonders if this girl is real because Tori wants to know her. But she tells herself it’s all just a dream, and she’ll forget it when she wakes up.

She lays down, kicking off the boots, and laying a hand over her eyes. Maybe sleeping will end the dream.

“It was nice knowing you, Jade,” she yawns, tumbling into unconsciousness mere minutes after her eyes close, darkness blocking in the little light from the red lamp beside the red chair.

* * *

Jade wakes up to singing in the shower. Terrible, off-key, forced vibrato singing.

She slams her pillow over her face, trying to drown the belting that’s happening in the adjacent bathroom.

Even the fluffy stuffed cushion is unable to stop the horrendous sound from trickling through and she throws it to the ground. “SHUT U-”

Her voice dies in her throat at the sound of her voice. Her eyes widen at the strange room, and her head whips back and forth, and that’s when she catches sight of the brown curls that tumble over her shoulder.

“I don’t have brown hair,” her eyes narrow, and she slowly climbs out of bed, staring at the very purple walls that seem to trap her in.

A locked door is next to the drawers— a quick look reveals that a vast majority of the clothes are bright colors— which she quickly assumes is the bathroom at the water sounds that are unable to drown out the voice.

She looks down at herself, turning her hand in the soft light. _Since when was I this tan? What?_

Her bronze skin is so startling compared to her porcelain skin in real life, she sits on the bed with a huff, moving a couple of fingers to see if it's real.

“Toriiiiiii,” a voice shrieks through the door, “your turn!”

Too stunned to say anything, she just pulls the darkest clothes she can find in her closet and slides them on in place of the two-piece baby blue pajamas she has on.

There’s no way she’s showering with this body.

 _It’s just a dream_ , she tells herself, _that’s all that it is._

She tiptoes downstairs, looking cautiously in the living room. It’s one of those living rooms that have everything, a piano, a dining table, the entire kitchen. 

Jade frowns and walks up to the woman sitting at the wooden table.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hi, Tori. You want waffles?” The woman spears a bite and shoves it in her mouth, chewing contently. Her other hand is occupied by a phone.

_Tori? So dream me has a different name. Cool._

“Sure,” her eyebrows crease as she takes a few more steps.

“The stove’s right there.”

“What?” A hint of shock and malice slips into her voice.

“Sorry, honey, I gotta go,” her gaze doesn’t leave the PearPhone in her hand, and she slips through a door, which Jade assumes is the garage door, leaving the dirty plate on the table.

 _What kind of mother does that?_ Her eyebrows unfurrow and she turns around, just in time for a girl, a bit older than her, to run down the stairs, hands up by her shoulders, heels clicking on the wooden steps.

“I’m driving you to school today,” she pauses at the grand piano, leaning forward to squint at her weirdly.

 _Thank God_ , she wants to say. “Why?” she says instead.

“Your car is at the auto repair shop, remember?”

“Yeah, sure,” she’s already trotting up the stairs, mildly wondering how she hasn’t killed anyone yet.

“My car, seven-thirty!”

“Got it,” she grunts, glancing around rapidly for the door to Tori’s room.

A flash of purple tells her enough, and she slips in with a sigh.

_Such a boring dream. Can I just wake up?_

She pinches herself, letting out a small yelp with pain radiates up her arm. _Well… that didn’t work._

So she slips on the first pair of shoes she finds and hunts around for a backpack with school supplies.

It doesn’t take her long before she’s heading out of her room, hair brushed, light makeup done, but she feels a slight stinging squeeze in her lower abdomen and her shoulders slump.

“I gotta pee.”

And so she does, angling her eyes up because she does _not_ want to see anything more than she needs to. She’s washing her hands when she catches sight of her reflection.

The girl in the mirror has startlingly high cheekbones, her skin a light tan that proves she’s in the sun regularly. Her hand gropes for the faucet, which she turns off, eyes fixed on the brunette girl with the hand that mirrors exactly what she does.

“Who are you?” she whispers to herself, flickering to the wide doe eyes, that while are the classic brown color, are soft and bright. The curves of her face are soft— _this girl smiles a lot_ , Jade muses to herself. Her face is a little dull, and when she cracks a little smile experimentally, she finds herself smiling wider at the light in those perfect eyes.

 _Oh, God, no stop. This is so narcissistic of me._

But the girl isn’t her, and Jade is aware she’s blushing, her cheeks a little hot.

 _This is dream me,_ she reminds herself. _Get over it. This girl probably doesn’t exist._

A screeched “TORIIIIII!” breaks the usually pale girl out of her trance, and she traces a damp hand across those perfect cheekbones before darting downstairs with everything in hand.

Despite waking up to this girl’s (her sister?) horrendous singing voice, nothing in life had prepared her for the worst five minutes of her life.

The moment the seatbelt was strapped on, the car jolted backward, and Jade glared at the girl in the driver’s seat, who seemed completely preoccupied with touching up her lip gloss. Barely halfway out of the driveway, the tail end of the car is almost annihilated when a car sweeps past, honking.

“What is wrong with you?” she explodes.

“I’m a great driver,” she grins cockily, swerving the car so fast the tires screech.

“No, you are not.”

“At least I passed my drivers test on the first try.”

“And I don’t understand how you did,” she grumbles as the car starts drifting over the painted lines that mark the lanes.

“Shut up,” and the music starts blasting. It’s high-pitched bubble-gum pop, and she cringes at the opening riff.

And then the girl opens her mouth.

Jade immediately recoils, fighting the urge to clap either a hand over her ears or this girl’s mouth. She’s looking at her in shock, mouth open when she throws a golden curl over her shoulder.

Before the first verse is over, the thespian has had enough. “Just shut up, will you!”

The music turns down slightly and the light brown-haired girl turns with a smug look, “No, I will not _shut up_. The world deserves to hear the voice of Trina Vega, little sis!”

Jade concluded three things from that statement… or more of a declaration. One, that this girl was annoyingly and amazingly narcissistic, two, her name was Trina, and three, she was Tori’s older sister.

The music returns to its full volume with the deafening, out-of-tune belting that is taking place, but she’s too busy thinking about the name “Trina Vega” to object.

 _It sounds familiar. Why does it sound familiar?_ A glance at the singing girl reveals that she _looks_ familiar as well. _Huh, maybe I know her in real life. Apparently, strangers in dreams are people we’ve seen before._

And the voice crack from a sharp F5 rips her out of her jumbled thoughts, and she shouts, “No!” Her hand reaches out to twist the dial until the music is unheard, and she sends an icy glare toward the other girl, but she’s unfazed.

The other girl, still driving and swerving clumsily, turns it back up, and it’s a back and forth until Jade decides to reach for her scissors.

Except… they’re not tucked in her waistband. Because she’s Tori Vega in this dream and not Jade West, and Tori does not carry scissors in her waistband.

It gives Trina the opportunity to turn the volume back up with a triumphant grin, and Jade leans back, letting out a long groan.

Nothing sounds—or looks— as intimidating with her soft voice and expression, and the thespian is just about finished.

“What’s got your panties in a pretzel?”

There’s a slight cringe at the word _panties_ , but she recovers and just growls at her.

“Get out of the car. We’re here,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, gesturing towards the front of the school. Huge letters spell out “SHERWOOD HIGH SCHOOL.”

She climbs out as fast as she is physically able to, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder and setting off into the school, looking forward to the moment she wakes up in her bed.

Luckily for her, the moment she steps foot into the school, a girl— who looks a lot like Tori, Jade’s not going to lie— saunters up to her, a brunette hair streaked with bright blue swinging behind her head.

“Tori!”

She doesn’t respond but does let herself be dragged around when the first bell rings almost immediately after. 

She’s pulled around the back of the school, and she frowns at the sight of the gym.

“Why are you so quiet today?”

“Huh?”

“You haven’t said a single word.”

“So?”

“You usually, like, talk like there’s no tomorrow.”

“And?”

“What’s with the one-word answers? Is something wrong?”

“Why do you care?”

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with more questions?”

The girl with the ponytail just receives a pointed look.

“Seriously.”

“Why are you so interested in my life?”

“When did you get so mean?”

She sighs at that, running a hand through the brunette hair that’s colored the same as the girl’s next to her. ”I’m just tired,” she says at last, “I didn’t get much sleep.”

“Is that why you didn’t wear your feather earring today?”

Jade reaches up to her right ear, running a finger over the small puncture in her earlobe. “I guess.”

“Sleep-deprived you is becoming me,” she bites back a retort when she’s nudged in the shoulder.

Jade turns to look at the other girl as they continue walking, now making a right, where a crowd of girls is gathered outside a pair of doors.

Blue streaks are scattered throughout her hair, much like the highlights Jade wears, except there’s a lot more. She can catch a glimpse of the edge of a feather that dangles on her right side, which confirms that Tori and whoever this girl is are probably either related or close friends.

The crowd begins to move when the doors are shoved open, and she follows them in, shuffling through a short corridor that leads to a… locker room?

_Oh my God, this is PE._

She braces herself for a musk and is pleasantly surprised when it doesn’t really smell like much other than a normal classroom. She trails behind the brunette girl, freezing abruptly when she frowns at her.

“What are you doing? You’re locker’s back there.”

“O-oh yeah,” She’s about to turn away, but it occurs to her that she has no idea which locker is hers. “Uh, what’s my locker number?”

She’s met with a concerned squint, “What?”

“What’s my locker number again?”

“Tori…”

She stares unwaveringly, waiting.

“135… the biggest locker at the end… are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” she snaps, heading straight for the wall, squeezing past the backpacks and people already beginning to remove their clothes.

She’s ready to crumple into a ball when she sees the lock hanging from the door. She’s just about to slam her fist into the metal door when she gives the lock an experimental tug, and it gives way. 

_Huh, it’s unlocked_ , she muses, _Not that bad of a nightmare, I guess._

She lifts the clasp before tugging, the long door opening to reveal a mirror taped onto the inside. She eyes herself, running a finger over her cheekbones.

“Hey, Tori!”

She whirls around to see a blonde-haired girl huffing as she drags her backpack through the sea of people that have amassed since the bell has rung. 

“Oh, hi.”

“You look…”

“Tired? I am.”

“I was going to say different. Where’s your feather earring?”

“Left it at home,” she grumbles, turning back to her locker to grab the clothes that sit crumpled in the bottom.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I forgot!” she snaps and feels a smirk when the girl flinches back.

“Well, you’re grumpy today.”

_Mental note: Tori is a happy girl. I can’t be Jade or people get suspicious._

She just shrugs, turning back to her locker, where she glances at her reflection— not technically hers, but her body’s.

She turns to the girl who greeted her, eyes drifting to her lower abdomen, where her name is scrawled across a blank space on the P.E. uniform.

_Zoey Brooks._

“Zoey.”

“Yeah?”

“Isn’t there this thing, like if you look into a mirror while you’re dreaming, you get scared?”

“I dunno. Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering,” her tone is blunt, and she makes another mental note to keep it lighter.

She reaches into the dark locker and pulls out the clothing, wrinkling her nose at the gray shirt and blue basketball shorts. _At least they’re not insanely bright._

She rips off her clothes as fast as she physically can and slides on the pair of clothes that just smells like… Tori.

She inhales, tasting the light, floral perfume in the back of her throat, the warm, human scent of Tori flooding her.

Jade has to shake herself out of it and looks over at Zoey, who is still changing.

“Why’d ya change so fast?”

She shrugs, clamping her teeth together to keep from biting a retort.

 _These people know me as Tori, some happy nice girl who is not me. Oh God, this_ is _a nightmare. I’m supposed to be_ nice. _C’mon Jade,_ she chides to herself, _you’re an actor. Think of this as one of Sikowitz’s stupid method acting exercises._

So she just closes the blue metal door lightly, snapping the lock back into place without closing it. She has to bite back a chuckle at the combination, which reads N-E-R-D.

She shakes her head with a smirk. Whoever this Tori is, is such a dork.

She grabs the plastic bottle of water tucked into the pocket of her backpack and heads out with Zoey, the Tori look-alike catching up to them a couple of seconds later.

Jade looks down, noting that her name is Lola Martinez, probably a cousin of Tori.

They arrive at the gathering place of the glass, and the thespian looks in exasperation at the numbers, where the students begin to settle once the trill of the late bell is heard.

She has to stand near her friends, making (God forbid!) small talk while she eyes everyone who settles down. With a small sigh of relief, she hurries to sit on the number 24, the opening before two kids with the surnames Vadapalli and Voong.

The class is small since it is only the first period, but the warm-up activity has her dodging people as they run past her.

“How… much… longer?” she pants out to Lola, as they jog a small circle around the basketball courts.

“Like two seconds.”

“Wha?”

A long whistle sounds and she stops, ready to sit and rest, but a quick look around reveals that everyone is walking, catching their breaths. She hurries to catch up with the two girls.

It feels like only twenty seconds have passed when a double whistle cuts through the air and the class begins to jog once again.

She doesn’t follow them, putting on an exhausted expression and limping to the coach, who stands with a stopwatch clutched in his fingers.

“Coach?” she gasps out.

“Yes?”

“I don’t feel well,” she whimpers, which isn’t too hard with Tori’s soft and light voice, she notices. She almost feels bad for herself.

He eyes her, and she shuffles slightly, slapping on a pained wince when she steps. “Where?”

“My stomach and legs hurt, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. And my head is throbbing,” she whines piteously. 

“Want to go to the nurse?”

She lets her eyes shift into a hopeful expression, “Yes, please.”

Jade bites back a smirk when she’s handed a hall pass, which quickly fades when she has no idea where the nurse’s office is.

“Can I take Lola?” she grunts, limping a few steps.

“Yeah, sure,” he waves her away dismissively, beckoning the Latina girl over.

“What?” she pants, adjusting the blue highlights littered throughout her brunette locks.

“Accompany Tori to the nurse.”

“O...kay?”

She hobbles with an arm over the other girl’s shoulder, bristling at the contact, but telling herself it’s just acting. The moment the step into the lunch quad, out of sight, she straightens up and jumps away.

“You’re not sick?” 

“Do I look sick to you?” Jade scoffs.

“B-but over there-”

“It’s called acting. You should try it sometime,” she throws icily, walking leisurely to the front of the school, Lola hurrying to catch up.

“But… but you’re terrible at lying!”

_Oh. Well, that was out of character, I guess._

She deflates until she realizes she can use this to her advantage. So she shrugs, following the other Latina to the front of the school.

“Whatever.”

“You’re not yourself today.”

_So she’s noticed._

“Yeah. I don’t care.”

She’s faced with a bewildered frown.

_Maybe I should just act like Tori. People are confused._

“Look, I really don’t feel well, and I just want to go home and sleep.”

“Okay…”

They walk in silence, stepping over puddles that remain in the later hours of the morning.

Lola halts in front of double doors, pulling it open. Jade steps inside warily, blinking as she puts on the pathetic sick face again.

She adjusts her gait so she’s limping slightly, just barely noticeably. 

The lady in the front looks up, “What do you want?” she says in a monotone, almost like she spent hours practicing the bored tone and is now reciting it.

“Tori doesn’t feel well.”

She nods along, widening those doe eyes of hers, thanking her dream body silently for having the perfect case of doe eyes that can look adorable and sad at the same time.

“Oh, honey, I’ll take you to the nurse.” The receptionist pauses to look at the P.E. shirt, “Lola, you can head back to class.”

“Of course, Ms. Imelda,” she nods respectfully, pushing out of the doors they’d just walked in.

She follows the curly-haired woman to the back, who sits her down on a bench in what looks like a makeshift doctor’s office.

“Nurse Lee will be with you shortly,” she gives her a sympathetic smile, although the words still sound like they’re recited.

“Thank you,” she manages, keeping polite eye contact, and biting the inside of her lip to keep the full-blown smirk from tainting the innocent purity of Tori’s face.

The nurse arrives after several minutes, a typical nice-looking lady who will probably do nothing except sending her back to class. But if she plays injured and sick Tori good enough… 

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“My stomach and head hurt,” she sighs, her eyes downcast nibbling her lower lip as she tightens her arms around her abdomen. “And for some reason, I’m really tired, and I couldn’t run in P.E.”

“Huh. How many hours of sleep did you get last night?”

“Seven,” she bluffs, hoping she sounds sick enough.

“Well, maybe you should get more sleep, honey.”

She’s ready to yell, but she puts the injured puppy look into her wide brown eyes, which are starting to droop a little, letting out a soft whimper of desperation, “I really don’t feel well. I want to throw up.”

Jade forces a swallow as the words make its way out of her lips.

A thermometer is held to her forehead, and she suppresses an eye-roll.

“Your temperature is fine.”

“Everything hurts,” she sighs, not ready to give up just yet.

“Do you think you can stay awake for another few classes?”

She shakes her head, closing her eyes as she leans into the wall behind her.

A gentle hand is placed to her head, and she flinches back instinctively, internally grinning when a look of concern creeps onto the nurse’s face.

“Did you eat anything bad in the last couple of days?”

“No,” she says like she has a hard time getting it out, “I just ate what I usually do.”

A pause. Jade peeks open her eyes to find the nurse squinting at her.

“Honey, are you starving yourself?”

She struggles to put an innocent look on her face at that, “What do you mean?” She knows the concern is false, but she melts into it because Tori seems like a person that would.

“What did you eat yesterday?”

“I had a bowl of cereal with milk for breakfast. Erm… school lunch for lunch. And pizza for dinner with my family.”

“Did you throw up?” 

She shakes her head, “I hate throwing up. The thought itself makes me shudder,” she explains, letting her shoulders shake slightly.

“Hmm. I’m not sure what’s wrong, sweetie. Want me to call your parents?”

“My parents are at work,” she murmurs feebly. “My sister is home, probably.”

“College student?”

“Mhm hmm.”

“Well, okay then. Just dial her number and ask her to pick you up.”

“What about the rest of my classes?” 

“You can have a friend pick the work up for you today, or you can just make it up tomorrow.”

“Mkay,” she sighs, leaning back into the wall to close her eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, Tori. Can you call your sister for me?”

“I don’t have my phone,” she grunts, biting her lip so stifle a smirk at the exhausted tone that comes out so easily.

“Oh, here, sweetie. Use mine.”

She reaches for the black receiver-like phone, pulling her eyes open as if they weigh a hundred pounds.

“Press nine, and then dial the number.”

She’s ready to do just that… only to realize she has no idea what Trina’s number is.

“Uhm…” she falters, “I don’t think I know her number by heart.”

“You have her contact in your phone?”

A nod.

“Is it in your backpack?”

Another dip of the head.

The woman takes the phone from her, dialing what seems to be her P.E. teacher.

Eyes closed, but wide awake, she hears— to her satisfaction— the murmuring of the woman asking for someone to bring her clothes and belongings to the front office.

Mere minutes later, her backpack, well Tori’s backpack, is on her back, her phone in hand.

“I’ll give a note to the rest of your teachers that you won’t be here, okay? What’s your name?”

She just allows her hands to drop from her stomach, revealing the fading _Tori Vega_ that had been written on her shirt.

The click of a computer keyboard reaches her ears, followed by a pause.

“Victoria Vega?”

“Yeah.”

_So her full name is Victoria. Interesting._

In minutes, she’s climbing into the same passenger seat she got out of, barely masking a full-blown victorious grin.

“You’re sick?!? If you need to sneeze or cough, open the window, and DO NOT do it in the car, understand?” she groans at the shrill voice that pierces her ear.

“I’m not sick.”

“Then why was I called?”

“I wanna go home.”

“How- how did you manage that?”

“I pretended to be sick.”

“But-but you suck at lying!”

 _Lucky I’m a pathological liar in real life_ , she refrains from exclaiming gleefully, so she just shrugs, letting her voice fall into a dismissive and indifferent tone, “It’s called acting. You should try it sometime.”

“I know that!” Trina snaps, “I went to Hollywood Arts.”

Jade freezes, tensing up, everything on her face crumbling.

She just answers, in the lightest tone she can muster, “That doesn’t mean you can act well.”

“Well, I can!”

Jade is too busy trying to control her breathing to snap back a response.

Hollywood Arts.

_Hollywood Arts._

She racks her brain for Trina Vega, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hey Trina, how old am I?”

“17, 18 in February. Why?”

“Just testing you,” she answers breezily.

The older Vega sister just makes an indignant noise, but doesn’t question it, already humming an off-key rendition to “Freak the Freak Out.”

She’s glad Trina pays no further attention to her because she sighs in relief. 

_Tori’s a senior… so Trina’s at least in college. Okay, that means I’ve never run into Trina since I was probably still in the middle school section of Hollywood Arts…_

In a five-minute car ride that seems to be twenty with the horrible screeching that she doesn’t think should qualify as singing, Jade finds herself drifting off despite the deafening off-key racket coming from the girl barely a foot from her.

_Huh. Acting like a nice person probably drained me._

She snaps awake when the car jerks wildly to the right as Trina turns recklessly into the driveway.

“Trina!”

The girl doesn’t hear over her shrieking, so she just sighs, climbing out with her backpack.

A quick turn of the knob reveals the door is unlocked, and she dashes upstairs immediately, into the purple room.

It takes her a couple of seconds to remember that this is a dream, and she flops onto her bed, gazing at the plastic stars on the ceiling. They’re barely noticeable against the white ceiling since too much light is flooding in the window for them to glow.

She pulls the curtain over the glass, thankful almost no sunlight finds its way through. She gazes in wonder at the correctly stuck constellations created from 5-pointed stars of different sizes. There’s a particularly big one that has an arrow and words next to it and the writing reads, _Vega._

She feels the hint of a smile tug at her lips as she makes the connection. The Vega family, and the star, Vega. _It’s probably Tori’s favorite star,_ she thinks to herself, _with how much of a dork she is._

They glow a slight green, and she kicks off her shoes to lay on top of the bedsheet.

Jade lets her eyes wander from star to star, idly wondering why they’re shaped the way they are despite that stars are, in actuality, burning balls of light. 

She falls asleep with glow-in-the-dark constellations burned into the back of her eyelids.


	3. October 8th

Jade wakes up when her alarm goes off, and she lays back for a minute to listen to the loud music that blasts from her phone.

Weirdly enough, she realizes she’s wearing a pale red flannel and jeans. She sits up, bewildered.

_ I would never sleep in these clothes… and socks?  _ She’s utterly confused, lips pulled down in a deep frown.  _ Did I really wear a bra to sleep? _

“Maybe I need more sleep,” she comments, shaking her head. She slips her way out of her clothes and slides on a darker set, which as she thinks, matches her soul.

“Hey, Jade, I wanna talk to you,” her mom walks up at her when she steps upstairs before school. Jade tips her head, frowning when her mom’s eyes flicker over her face.

“Why?” she sighs in a monotone.

“I want to know what was up with you yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“You… weren’t acting normal,” the older woman says slowly.

“Am I ever normal?” she questions dryly.

“True… but it wasn’t normal… by your standards.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Jade throws up her hands, exasperated.

“Yesterday, you went to school without highlights.”

“I did?”

“Yes.”

“I… don’t remember that happening- Are you trying to prank me or something?”

“N-no. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she snorts.

“You were acting _ really _ weird yesterday. You came home early from school. I don’t know when, but when I got back from work at 4, you were asleep. With the door open.”

“Wha-” something in her mind tugs at her. Something… about a dream? “I-I don’t remember that,” her voice drops into a vulnerably soft place, and her mom just narrows her eyes.

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor? Do you have amnesia? What’s my name?”

The black-hair girl’s voice hardens, covering up the single moment of vulnerability, “No, no, and Alexis. I’m fine.”

“Well… if you say so.”

Jade just rolls her eyes, reaching for a waffle on the table before heading back to her room to fetch her supplies.

She reaches into her boot to withdraw the pair of scissors before she slides on her shoe, but it’s not there, and for a second, she panics. When she spots it on the wooden table of her bookshelf, she frowns for a second but brushes it off and shoves it into her waistband.

***

When she gets to school, she sees Beck striding up to her, his face worried, but it quickly relaxes when he catches sight of her, “Oh good. You’re back to normal.”

“What do you mean back-to-normal? Why is everyone saying I was acting weird yesterday?”

“Because you were,” her boyfriend answers matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“You weren’t wearing highlights. Or make-up for that matter.”

So her mom  _ wasn’t _ lying.

“I don’t remember that,” she admits after a moment of silence.

“Oh chiz, do you have amnesia?”

“No!” the pale girl snaps, “My memory is perfectly fine.”

“What about your memory?” a bouncing girl with startlingly bright and artificial red hair grins, seeing to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Nothing, Cat. Mind your own business.”

“I heard Beck say something about anesthesia or something.”

“I’ll knock you out with some anesthesia if you don’t shut up.”

“Oh, one time my brother got his wisdom teeth removed, and he started screaming at the trees and bushes and beating them with their own branches… well, he does that normally too, but whatever. My mom said he was high-”

“Cat!”

The redheaded bundle of energy jumps, “What-ty?”

“Stop. Talking,” Jade hisses through her teeth.

“Kay kay,” she grins gleefully, clapping her hands over her mouth at the warning look from the thespian.

Beck just watches the exchange with amusement, silent.

“What, Beckett?”

“I just think that you should go see a doctor, or maybe Lane if you’re suffering from amnesia…”

“I don’t have amnesia,” she snarls, and a couple of passing students flinch back.

“What’s am-”

She’s cut off by a deadly glare, shutting her mouth with a soft squeak.

“Jade, what’s my birthday?”

“February 19th.” Something about that date stirs something inside of her, but she’s unable to place it.

“It’s February 9th,” Cat pipes up, shrinking back with a whimper when the thespian whirls to face her, scissor blades already pointed at her.

A warm hand on her arm pulls her back, and she rips it from Beck’s touch. “ _ Never _ touch me.”

“Look,” he runs a hand through his long hair, “if you’re forgetting things, you should really-”

“I’m not forgetting things!” she shrieks loudly, smirking to herself when Cat squeaks and any passersby speed up their pace to escape the well-known wrath of Jade West.

“Are you sure-”

“Of course I’m sure,” she barks back, “I even remember my dream from last night. It was like,” she gesticulates with her hands as she tries to find the words she needs, “I was dreaming about someone else’s life, and I was this person from another school and it was a regular day, but it was cool…”

“Hold up,” her boyfriend’s eyebrows are raised, “You dreamed about another person’s life?”

“I think. What about it?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. It’s cool. And weird.

Cat gasps loudly and the couple turns to face her, identical expressions of bewilderment scrawled across their faces.

“What if it’s…” The bubbly redhead trails off, pulling out her phone, finger tapping on the keyboard rapidly.

“What if it’s what, Cat?”

“Wait,” she taps something and begins scrolling, giggling at the speed the screen is moving. “Here!” Jade recoils as a pink phone is shoved in her face. “Read it!”

She frowns at the headline, “Past lives?”

“Yeah! You might be dreaming about your past life!”

“Past life?” she repeats.

“A past life is like the life you lived before this one.” Cat nods along excitedly. Like you died-”

“I  _ know _ what a past life is, Beckett. Cut the fantasy chiz.”

“Isn’t it sci-fi?”

“Well, I don’t give a-”

“Language,” he warns, glancing at the girl who’s hands had flown up to cover her ears.

“Okay, first of all, if you haven’t noticed, we’re in  _ high school _ . Get used to it. Second of all… I was going to say fudge.”

“Sure,” he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the fu-”

“Hey, heyheyhey!”

“-dge up.”

“Oh.”

“We’re not talking about this,” Jade scowls.

“You were so nice yesterday, though,” Cat pouts.

“What?”

“You didn’t make anyone cry  _ or _ pee their pants,” she explains.

“I’m losing my edge,” the raven-haired girl grumbles, shoving the scissors she’s still holding back into the waistband of her skirt.

“You don’t remember it, do you?” Beck scoffs.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then why did I drag you into the Janitor’s closet the moment you got to school?”

“To… make out?”

“No! To question the fact that you didn’t wear any of,” he points to the face jewelry and hair, “that.”

“How would I know that?”

“See? You don’t remember anything!”

Cat squeals at the arguing, eyes flickering between the two.

Jade just shrugs, already walking away, boots clicking on the smooth wooden floor.

“We weren’t done talking about your… memory loss!” the long-haired boy calls after her.

“Well, I was done listening!”

Just then, a dark-skinned boy in dreads almost crashes into her, “Memory loss? You got amnesia or what?”

She snarls at him, whipping out those titanium allowed scissors of hers, and he jumps back, fingers splayed by his ears.

“Damn, girl,” he just furrows his eyebrows, heading towards Beck and Cat while Jade makes her way towards her first class, where she’ll have to see them anyway. 

“What is wrong with me?” she clenches her first, whipping out her phone to check that indeed, a day has passed, and she has no recollection of it. “What’s happening?”

She pulls out a notebook black as her hair, flipping through the entries. She’d written one every day; there  _ has _ to be one from yesterday unless she hadn’t lived it… what if she was the only one who was right, and everyone just had false memories? Like, like, that Jason dude from  _ Percy Jackson _ .

She tells her brain to shut up, swiping page after page until she comes to the first blank one. 

_ It’s… today’s date, which means… _

She looks back at yesterday’s page, her heart almost leaping out of her chest at the girlish calligraphy scrawled there. 

_ Who are you? _ it reads, and Jade fights the urge to just break down right there.

_ I didn’t write that. I know I didn’t. What the hell? _

But before she has a chance to do anything, the recognizable voice of Sikowitz, (Mr. Crazy-Acting-Teacher), rings through the classroom.

“Alright! Rumps in chairs! Put your phones away! Jade, notebook away!”

She hastily shoves it back into her bag, completely unaware that the bell had rung minutes ago.

She sits through class in a daze, feeling like she’s missing something. The words  _ who are you? _ float around in her head, and she’s grateful Sikowitz doesn’t call her up for an improv exercise this class.

When class ends, she’s already exhausted, considering she had slept (according to her mom) over at least 15 hours the day before. 

_ It feels like I fell asleep at 4 am, woke up at 5 completely exhausted, and then stayed awake until it was time to go to school. But… I was asleep the whole night. Maybe… it was the dream. _

The bell snaps her out of her trance, but she remains in her chair, her face propped up on her elbows wearily.

“Jade,” she feels a light nudge on her right side and she tilts her head to the side to glare at Beck through her eyelashes.

“What?” she groans, pounding her head on the back of her chair several times. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of pain.

“Are you sure you don’t have amnesia or something?” She can feel fingers absently play with her hair but she swats him away. 

“Don’t touch me,” Jade grumbles, pulling her hair out of his grasp. “And no, I don’t have-”

“Amnesia?” Cat chimes in. “Robbie told me about it earlier. I think my brother has amnesia. He sometimes forgets my name,” she giggles softly, and Jade can feel a headache coming on. Great.

“Go away,” The black-haired girl mutters at the red-headed girl, relieved when the too-happy girl bounces away to second period.

“Do you need me to take you home again?” Beck’s still next to Jade, and suddenly, she’s aware that she’s the only one left in the room. Even Sikowitz has already climbed out the window to restock on coconuts.

“Again?”

“I took you home after first yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Beck just looks at her, his eyes wide with concern.

***

The next three periods crawl by, slower than a snail, and Music Theory/History is much more exhausting than usual.

She pulls out her notebook from home, uncapping a ballpoint pen with her teeth. She’s all too ready to begin scribbling down today’s entry when she comes across  _ that _ page.

Her heart drops the exact way it did when she had seen it for the first time earlier. She takes a deep breath to rid the chill that rushes through her

She runs her fingers over the loopy letters, tracing them all the way to the point of the question mark. It’s not her handwriting, and no one has access to her notebook.

_ It can’t be Mom’s. She doesn’t enter my room and she wouldn’t look at it even if she did. And her handwriting is not that neat. But it looks almost… familiar. _

Her heart is racing, and she’s gripping her pen so hard her knuckles are white. It’s a surprise the pen just doesn’t burst altogether, spilling and splattering bright red ink everywhere. She’s too busy staring down at the words— analyzing every inch of them— to realize she’s been called on.

“What?” her head shoots up.

Mr. Taylor sighs, tapping the board, where the four musical eras have been drawn out on a table. There’s an arrow between Romantic and Contemporary, the other end a blank space. “I said,” he adjusts his glasses, “What is the music period between Romantic and Contemporary?”

“Impressionism,” she answers flatly, eyes already drifting down to the lined paper again.

“And can you name two composers from this period?”

“Huh?”

“Ms. West, pay attention in class.”

“Right, sorry.”

“So?”

She racks her brain for answers, thinking back to the piano theory she’d learned through the past decade. She knows it fine, she remembers it. So why can’t she remember anything else? Why can’t she remember what happened yesterday?

Why can’t she remember her dream?

“Jade!”

“Right. Uh… Claude Debussy… and Maurice Ravel.”

“Thank you,” he replies pointedly, turning to scribble it on the whiteboard.

Her eyes are already fixed on the paper again, fingernails brushing lightly over the carefully written words as if she could remember everything just by touching them.

At the end of class, Beck approaches her, and she curses the school for putting him in so many of her classes. At least she’d been happy for a couple of days when she had found out.

“Why were you zoning out?”

“Why does that matter?

“Because you seem like you don’t remember anything. You’re not paying attention, and you keep looking at your notebook.”

“So?” she drawls lazily, slumping in the chair so her knees are parted, feet splayed out beyond what’s usually considered appropriate for a female.

“It’s not normal!” he runs his hand through his hair, eyes blinking frustratedly.

_ He’s exasperated. Good. _

“What’s in that notebook, anyway?” The boy makes a grab for it, but Jade yanks it out of his grasp, ripping out the open page. It flutters to the ground, and she yanks it into her bag before he can catch sight of the huge words. She hopes he hasn’t seen it already.

“None of your business.”

“Jade, I think you need to get checked.” He reaches out to brush a loose strand out of her pouting face.

“Mind your own damn business,” She snaps and grabs her purse, pushing herself aggressively out of her seat, ignoring that the chair is sprawled on the floor on the other side of the classroom.

“I don’t think you should be at school right now,” his chest deflates, and his shoulders slump.

“Can I go home now, then?”

He doesn’t answer, so Jade yanks him by the wrist and exits the front door.

“I’ll miss lunch and fifth period,” he scratches his dark hair with his hands, weighing the consequences.

“No one cares.”

“Well, I d-”

“Besides you.” She cuts him off, stomping off without him.

“You’re going the wrong way!” Beck hollers at his girlfriend.

“Do I care? No!” she tears away, chest heaving for no reason, oblivious to the fact that the time it takes to get home this way is a full hour as opposed to the forty-five minutes it usually takes.

Minutes after she’s home, Jade kicks off her boots and plops herself on her dark bed, the terrifying poster of the undead girl soothing her as she squints at the scars and streaks of blood she’s come to memorize.

She’s absently playing with her scissors, enjoying the sound that comes from the metal blades sliding open and shut, snipping off the ends of her hair, pressing the blade into her palm just to see how much pain she can tolerate without actually breaking skin, and she racks her brain of previous memories of her dream from last night. 

Nothing.

She shuts her eyes tightly, focusing on the blackness, ignoring the points of color that dance behind her closed eyelids.

Tan skin. Wide, doe eyes, chocolate brown. Long chestnut hair.

Her eyes snap open at the shapes taking place in the black, suddenly aware of her heartbeat racing in her throat.

_ What’s her name? I can’t remember her name. What’s your name? Who are you? Are you the one who left that in my journal? _

She flips open her journal once more, her heart stopping at the three words although she’s expecting it.

_ Who are you? _

Her breathing is shallow, and she has to voluntarily inhale deeply because her lungs suddenly feel too small for her chest, and she’s unable to get enough air.

She’s glaring at the alien cursive that’s been written into the previous page. She can’t remember. She can’t remember  _ when _ she wrote it, or  _ how _ , or  _ why _ she did. 

She only knows she didn’t write it, and that’s the part that absolutely terrifies her.

The notebook is sent flying to the floor, flipping over itself, paper folding and crumpling with hideous wrinkles. The spine is jutted up to the ceiling, pages splayed carelessly beneath it.

She’s unable to bring herself to pick it up.

So she rips open her laptop and begins to write, her fingers flying across the keys, so desperately trying to keep up with the speed of her brain. ZaplookDocs begins to lag, the sentences jerking out in chunks seconds after they’re slammed into the keyboard.

When she’s a couple thousand words in, she pauses for air, and that’s when she realizes her cheeks are wet. Soaked.

_ Tears? _

In seconds, she’s turning in her chair and walking tentatively over to the mirror, watching droplets of moisture bleed from her eyes.

“Why-” her voice is no more than a mere whisper as her hand reaches up to wipe away the beads of water, only to be replaced by more. “Why am I crying?”

She stands there silently, pale eyes never leaving her reflection as she continues to cry, her nose slowly clogging up, her breaths coming quicker as tears roll down her face.

She runs her sleeve under her eyes but it does nothing more than smear the make-up. Teardrops continue to pool in her eyes, spilling over without warning; no amount of blinking or eye rubbing is able to stop the flood.

“Who are you?” she cries softly, bringing a hand up to brush the moisture from her cheekbones, “Why were you here?”

* * *

Tori forgets most of that day when she wakes up the next morning.

She wakes up… not in her pajamas. 

_ Why am I in my P.E. clothes?!? _

Her alarm is tinkling, and she blinks her eyes open to see her room dim, much dimmer than usual at this time of day.

_ Huh? I usually don’t pull in my blinds so I wake up to blinding light… weird. _

The plastic stars on her ceiling glow faintly, and she lets her gaze wander from constellation to constellation, reciting them silently.

The loud yelp and thump of an alarm hitting the ground a room over startles Tori, and she jumps out of bed, remembering that she needs to use the shower and bathroom before Trina gets to it, because otherwise, she won’t have time.

She grabs the first pair of clothes she can see in her closet and dashes into the bathroom, locking both doors with a sigh.

Once the little adrenaline fades, she finds herself staring at her reflection in the mirror, frowning at her face. It’s not that she doesn’t like the way she looks, it’s that there’s something… unfamiliar there.

Sure, the makeup is done a teeny bit different…  _ wait _ .  _ Why do I have makeup on? _

She leans closer, her gaze glued on her own chocolate eyes, mind straining to remember what was so different about them a day ago.

She’s unable to remember.

It frustrates her to no end, but a loud pound on the door and a long groan from her sister’s side of the room shakes her out of the trance she’s in.

So she uses the toilet and brushes her teeth like any morning, changing into lighter clothes that the ones she apparently fell asleep in. The old makeup is washed off with a wipe and a little touch of mascara and lip gloss is applied over her bare face.

It’s undoubtedly… Tori Vega.

So why doesn’t it seem like it?

She shakes it off as a lack of sleep and proceeds to change into fresher clothes. A slight sniff under her arms tells her that she probably didn’t shower yesterday… wait what?

Tori’s sure she showered after school the previous day, but then why had she woken up in her P.E. uniform? P.E. was first period! And it was against the dress code to wear the uniform to class.

_ Did I go home after first period? _

None of the pieces of the puzzle seem to be fitting together; she’s missing something, she’s sure of it. 

She is racking her brain for memories of the day before, but there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, except being almost late to class.

She heads into her room, and a quick check of her lock screen confirms that it is, in fact, the eighth of October rather than the seventh.

She feels her pulse in her throat, thudding almost painfully in her chest, only to completely stop when Trina barges in.

“Tori! You forgot to unlock the bathroom door on my side!”

“Sorry,” she gasps, holding a hand to her chest.

“Are you normal today?” The older Vega asks once she steps into the bathroom from Tori’s room.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I had to take you home after first period because the school said you weren’t feeling well. But you seemed fine when I came to pick you up. And then you fell asleep until, like, now, when you got home.”

She blinks a few times, “What?”

“Yeah, it was weird because for some reason the nurse let you go home.”

“But I’m a terrible liar!”

“I  _ know _ , and you were even all like ‘It’s called acting, you should try it sometime.’” Trina mimics in a terrible representation of her younger sister’s voice.

“ _ What _ ?”

“You were so  _ weird _ .”

“Well, thanks for picking me up.”

“No prob. I had to ditch college for that.”

“Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine, it still made it back in time for Math. Ethan’s in that class, You know, the cute boy?”

“Yes, you’ve told me a million times.”

“Okay, bye.” And the bathroom door slams shut.

Tori presses her fingers to her temples, pacing back and forth. 

_ What did I do yesterday? Was I so out of it I have no memory? _

She slips on the feather earring, and heads downstairs for a quick breakfast, to find her parents absent, as usual. 

By the time Trina trots downstairs in her 5-inch heels, the half-Latina is bouncing at the door, “Hurry up, Trina! I’m going to be late!”

“I needed to do my makeup perfectly if I want to look good.”

“I’m late!”

“Then get your license like a normal teenage girl!”

“I didn’t see the lady in the wheelchair!”

“Didn’t you take it again?”

“I didn’t see the stop sign!”

“You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“Shut up and just take me to school!”

When she steps out of the car, belongings in hand, she’s met by Lola, her cousin, who immediately eyes her.

“What?” she snaps, on-edge with Trina’s singing.

“You look normal today.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Uh, because you weren’t yesterday.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“No, really. You forgot your feather earring.”

“I was probably tired.”

“You somehow got Mr. Folsom to let you leave class to go to the nurse.”

“I probably wasn’t feeling well.”

‘Yeah, but once you got to the quad, you were perfectly fine and when I asked you just went ‘It’s called acting, you should try it sometime.’ That’s like me-level shi-”

“Language! And  _ what _ ?”

“I know, right? You’re terrible at lying. And then somehow you got the  _ school nurse, _ the woman who gives frozen sponges when you get a paper cut to let Trina pick you up.”

“Huh?” Her eyebrows stitched together.

“I said what I said.”

“I don’t remember anything from yesterday,” Tori admits a second later.

“Huh. Maybe you were sick.”

“Probably.”

They’re silent the way to first period.

“...I left my P.E. clothes at home, didn’t I?”

“Well, you did go home in them.”

“Dangit! That’s the second time. I’m going to have a 99 for the semester!”

“Extra credit.”

“Oh, right.”

“Nerd.”

“Hey!”

Zoey strolls up to them, “Oh, hey, you’re normal today.”

“Why does everyone keep  _ saying that _ ?” she throws her arms to her side, exasperated.

“Because you weren’t normal yesterday.”

“I don’t even remember yesterday!”

“You were  _ weird _ .”

“I know that!” Tori snaps, completely fed up but a little concerned at the statements.

“What  _ do _ you remember?” Lola pipes in.

“My dream from last night,” the half-Latina snorts. 

“Ooh, do tell!”

“Basically, I was this girl, not me. And she was, like, really pretty, but that’s irrelevant.”

“Gay,” Zoey sang, clamping her mouth shut when she was given a swat to the arm.

“And I was her for the day. And I had this hot boyfriend and everything, but it was hard because it was like a game. I was her, but she’s all different from me. Like she’s mean and rude and annoying, which wasn’t that hard because I got sick of people wondering why I was so nice. I don’t remember her name, just that she had the prettiest teal eyes,” she ends with a sigh.

“You are  _ so _ gay,” Lola says this time, grinning cheekily at the embarrassed pout.

“Hey! I like boys too!” She receives a knowing look.

“Also, isn’t that weird? ‘Cause now you’re crushing on yourself, technically.”

“But she wasn’t me, that’s the thing. She’s probably the perfect person I want to be, or something, like you know how they say your dreams reflect your innermost desires? Probably that.” She makes a disappointed noise, “She probably doesn’t exist, though.”

“You wish she did, don’t you? Then you could date her!”

“Shut up!” 

Tori doesn’t deny it, though.

She doesn’t remember what the girl looks like more than pale skin, dark hair, and stunning eyes that seem to be burned into her memory.

Her hand immediately finds its way to rub the metal charm that hangs from a red cord around her neck, like she usually does when she’s anxious. A stranger had given her the necklace three years prior, she remembers. But it was nice, so she’d kept it as her good luck charm.

It doesn’t hit her as anything peculiar, strangely enough.

P.E. flashes by as she grins with her teasing friends, nodding mutely when the teacher asks if she’s feeling okay.

Her classes feel… undeniably dull today. It’s not something she particularly notices until she’s drifting off in the middle of AP Chemistry. It’s her favorite class, easily, but she finds herself exhausted and bored when she tries to make sense of the Ideal Gas Law, and some other crap that is taught throughout chemistry.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom thirty minutes into class, and she slumps against the tiled walls of the handicap stall. 

Groaning as she slides down until her butt reaches the cool floor, she drops her head into her hands, wondering if she’s missing something, anything.

After minutes of scrolling through her alarms and reminders, and groping in her mind for answers, she resurfaces with only more questions, a soft sigh leaving her parted lips.

Something is missing. A puzzle piece that’s almost shaped right but doesn’t fit. She’s forcing it down, covering up the empty hole that just reveals the wooden table beneath the cardboard.

She’s trying to rip the piece out because it’s ruining the entire puzzle, but it sends other pieces scattering and detaching until she’s left with a mess in her mind more jumbled than before.

And those pale eyes, staring right back at her.

***

It’s frustrating, really. To feel like there’s a huge chunk of her life missing. She doesn’t tell her parents, as she usually does though. Something about the situation tells her she needs to figure this one out on her own.

It’s also mentally draining, to be searching for answers only to come up with more unanswered questions.

_ Did I really forget yesterday, or was it everyone else? Why did I skip a day? Who is the girl with the ocean eyes? What is her name? Was it really a dream, or was I living another life, y’know, like the David Levithan book?  _

She shrugs it off as a dream; it’s the only plausible explanation that puts her mind at ease.

Lunch is uneventful, and she stabs her salad dubiously with the black plastic fork that snaps after several minutes.

“Woah!” Lola cocks an eyebrow, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t remember anything from yesterday!” Tori blurts out. “I’m missing something.”

It only earns her a couple of weird and concerned looks.

Fifth and sixth periods are much worse. She’s so completely exhausted she has to fight to not let her eyelids droop every time the teacher drones on and on and on about coordinating conjunctions or the fall of the Tang dynasty. 

When the off-key bell trills one final time for the day, it’s the thing that startles her awake, her head flying from where she’s laying on the desk.

She hurries away guiltily, fumbling with her books as she juggles her phone along with the supplies she didn’t manage to stuff into her backpack by the time she hightailed it out the class.

Since Trina’s at college and neither of her parents have shown their faces for the last day, Tori concludes she’s supposed to be walking home.

A faint groan falls from her lips before a car pulls up next to her.

“Hey, Tori Vega?”

“Yeah?” she whirls around to see the tinted glass roll down, revealing a dark-haired senior, holding a book.

“I think this is yours.”

Her heart flutters just a little bit at his easy smile.

“Oh,” she feels her face warm as she takes the book from him, struggling to balance it among the other things that occupy her arms. “Daniel, right?”

“Yup.” He watches her in amusement, chuckling softly when the book falls to the asphalt with a  _ thump _ . “Need a hand?”

“No!” she calls from where she’s doubled over, fingers reaching for the book, “I need a ride, though,” she adds jokingly.

“Get in.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Oh, uh, thanks!” She giggles slightly and tries to pass it off as a grateful chuckle, but fails when he reaches over to do her seatbelt.

“I need your address.”

She gives it to him distractedly, fighting both the blush and the fatigue already weighing her eyelids down.

Daniel enters the address into ZaplookMaps, pressing his foot to the gas pedal once the blue line appears.

“Uh,” Tori chuckles nervously, “want a brownie?”

“I don’t like brownies,” he shrugs, “Sorry.”

“Are you sure? I made these myself. They taste really good!” She shoves one into her mouth for good measure.

“I’m sure.”

“No, c’mon, try one!” Tori grins awkwardly, shoving the baked good into his face.

His nose twitches, and he takes it uncomfortably, nibbling it.

“Good?”

He nods, but the grimace on his lips says otherwise. Tori slumps in her seat.

The rest of the drive is in silence, and the half-Latina takes the opportunity to shove everything into her backpack.

When they pull up to the house at the top of the hill, she nods her thanks, pressing the red button to release the metal clasp. The door is open and she’s almost out when Daniel stops her, “Wait!”

“Huh?”

He pulls out a pen, uncapping it with his teeth. Tori thinks it’s adorable when he fails the first time, although it’s clearly an attempt to be cool. 

“Call me?” He scribbles the number on her wrist, small enough so it’s not obvious, large enough so it’s legible even if it smudges.

She gapes at him, “Uhm, yeah, sure, that’s great!”

He smiles easily, “See ya, Tori!”

“Bye, Danny!” she waves excitedly, smiling to herself when he gives her a simper at the nickname.

She dashes up to her room, but by the time she’s there the smile has faded.

She has a cute boy’s phone number, but she still can’t help but feel like it’s not enough.

_ Maybe Lola and Zoey were right about me being gay? _

She sighs, tapping the number into her PearPhone. She sends a quick,  _ hii :) _ before throwing her phone on her bed. She idly wonders why she’s not worrying about her first text like she usually does with boys.

Tori checks her calendar; there’s nothing happening tonight, so she heads into the bathroom to remove the little makeup she still has on.

And she’s looking in the mirror, gazing intently into her own chocolate brown eyes like they are supposed to turn green if she stares into them long enough.

They don’t.

She runs a hand over her rounder jaw, her higher cheekbones, her tanner skin. 

She compares it with the almost translucent shade that burns in her mind.

The memory’s almost gone now. She can hardly even remember the color of dream Tori’s hair. 

The name is too far gone to be retrieved, so she focuses on trying to remember the gorgeous features of the dream girl.

She’s unable to remember the exact shade of her skin.

What did she wear?

Were her brows thick or thin?

Panic fills her chest as the details begin to escape her, and she grasps at them, but it’s like grasping at air, because they slip from her faster than she can try and catch them.

There’s nothing left.

Maybe except for those eyes. Those beautiful, burning, blue eyes.

Or are they green?

The ever-so-cold irises leaving a startling fullness to her chest she misses. She doubts it was ever really there.

Something pops in her chest, maybe her heart stuttering its final beats because it’s lacking something she needs.

Needs? Or wants?

And she feels… deflated. Empty. And then she’s crying.

Tears, salty, warm tears are streaming down her cheeks out of nowhere, filling her eyes until those beautiful, doe eyes are swimming and drowning in the moisture, until it seeps into the corners of her lips, tainting her tongue with bitter salt.

But she has no idea why.

She lets the tears soak into the cloth that sits heavy on her chest and shoulders, trembling as sobs build in her chest, and then she’s ripping off the clothing that’s suffocating her, the neckline feeling like it’s wrapped tight around her throat although it just rests lightly at her collarbone. 

She stands bare, in front of the mirror, fading red streaks gouged from the frantic movements of her shaking hands and fingernails. The only thing left on her is her necklace, hanging loosely from her neck. Her hands drift to it, fingering the cool metal, ice cold against her burning chest.

When she tugs it off, it tears a jagged hole in her heart. She doesn’t know why.

She vaguely wonders if the girl with startling ocean eyes in her dream has anything to do with it.

The thought is pushed away when she steps into the scalding rain the slams from her showerhead, where no one, not even herself, can distinguish tears from water.


	4. October 12th

_It was supposed to be a dream. It was supposed to go back to normal, and I was supposed to forget? Why is the dream repeating?_

Tori wakes up as Jade again. Every last detail of the dream is the same, right down to the gruesome poster on the wall and the black notebook on the nightstand.

She's awake seconds before loud rock music floods the room, and she jumps, grumbling complaints about how a phone speaker can be so loud.

She stretches for a moment before… wait. She heads over to her bathroom mirror, staring in awe at her face; she's Jade again.

_What is this dream?_

Tori's wearing the same pajamas she woke up in last time, but this time, she notices a cold charm pressing up against her chest. She reaches into her shirt, blushing when her fingers brush… well, _those_ , and pulls out a round chunk of metal with a hole in the middle. A thin black string is threaded through the middle.

With a jolt, she realizes it looks a lot like… hers. It might as well be hers.

_Hmm, maybe this carried over from real life. Cool._

It's overwhelming, really, to have a recurring dream. It's only been five days since the first one, and she marvels at how it feels so _real_ , almost like she's living Jade's life.

Of course, her attention shifts to her chest, once again, and she doesn't bother to hold back a blush when she runs her hands over her body's full breasts. It's not like she's violating someone else. They're her own… technically.

She gets ready, as usual, selecting some of the least black articles of clothing she can find. She frowns at the dullness of her closet. It's honestly kind of sad.

Tori then remembers the highlights. She's not completely sure how to put in hair extensions, but after a quick Zaplook search, she thinks she has it down pretty well. She slips on the purple extensions, since they're her favorite color, musing that it doesn't look half bad.

Because she seems to have time to spare, she plops on to the bed, tentatively picking up the black journal. She flips through it; nothing has changed…

Except for another few journal entries that are written on the date. She doesn't feel like intruding, but she's curious, and after a quick reminder that it's not intruding since this is her dream persona, she scans through the new entries.

Her heart just about stops when she reads the diary from the tenth of December. Upon further inspection, Tori realizes that Jade is dreaming… of her? It's her life that's described in the messily scrawled words, down to the last detail, but there are no names.

_I dreamt that I was a girl with the prettiest brown eyes and brunette hair that tumbled over her shoulders. Her skin was a blazing bronze, and I can't stop thinking about her._

Tori thinks back to the time when she had done a research project on dreams, how they often reflected one's desires that weren't fulfilled in life.

 _Maybe I just want someone to think of me that way. I did wish to go to Hollywood Arts, and dream-me does exactly that,_ Tori concludes, her hand brushing over the handwriting.

The " _Who are you?"_ is still there, which startles her, but it seems that it had gone unnoticed. Jade had not left a response, but the page is wrinkled and the ink is smeared, almost as if she had fidgeted with it, worrying the paper with her fingers until it had creases and wrinkles.

Tori puts it back, arranging it so it's in the exact position as before, and she doesn't notice where her hands have wandered when the door bursts open.

"Jade, Mom says-" a voice stops mid-sentence. "Wow, you really do like your boobs," he looks bewildered as Tori gives the pillowy flesh on her chest another experimental squeeze through her clothes. They're soft, yet firm and for a second the half-Latina wonders what they would feel like if she-

"Jade!"

"Get out," she rasps, but makes no move to move a muscle… except for the ones in her fingers.

To her surprise, he just nods and runs into the hall, leaving Tori alone.

_I should probably stop..._

She has to shake herself out of it, and stands up, heading upstairs for breakfast.

"Purple, huh?" Mrs. West raises her eyebrows when she comes into view, "That's... different."

"Wanted to try something new," she shrugs, trying not to let panic show on her face. _Does Jade never wear purple highlights?_

She receives a nod, accompanied by a barely noticeable squint. "It looks nice."

"Thanks."

"Jade… you're acting weird again."

"Like, what?" She sits down at an empty seat at the dining table.

"The first thing you do every day is get a cup of coffee, and you're just… sitting there. You're wearing purple highlights, and now you're sitting in your father's spot at the table."

"Oh, um, yeah, I'm just a little out of it today," she stammers, pushing herself to her feet, walking as calmly as she can to the coffee maker. _You have no idea who I am_ , Tori wants to scream, but it occurs to her that this isn't even _real_. It's not her life. It's like a simulation, a game she's supposed to pass, maybe?

She pours herself a steaming cup of coffee, dumping in three packets of sugar and enough milk to turn the caffeinated beverage into a light brown.

"Milk?"

"Uhm, yeah," she flashes a nervous smile before internally slapping herself for being so awkward.

"That's a first," the woman grumbles, sitting down in front of her plate of waffles.

"I just wanted to… switch things up, I guess," she responds, then kicks herself as Mrs. West's expression changes.

She sits down in the only other available seat and begins to shove the breakfast food in her mouth.

Jasper giggles, "Why are you eating so fast?"

"Huh?" she looks up, her mouth full, syrup coating her lips.

"Since when have you ever eaten that much and that fast for breakfast?" Jade's mother looks amused and slightly concerned.

"I'm, er, hungry," she manages as she swallows the bite, deciding not to ask for seconds. She places the used plate in the sink and hurries back to Jade's bedroom, keeping her gaze averted from the _The Scissoring_ poster.

She contemplates taking it down, so she does, loosening the tape on the top half of the poster so that it droops over the lower half, the undead girl now out of view. She sighs in relief at that and grabs everything she'll need for a day at Hollywood Arts. The prospect of attending the prestigious art school, even not as herself, excites her, and she pulls out the slip of paper with Jade's schedule on it, committing it to memory.

When she arrives during first period, she's met by Beck's surprised glance.

"Purple," he slips a finger under a couple of strands of hair, "I like it."

She just smiles, "Thanks." He looks even more surprised at that and just brushes it off.

The bell trills, a series of dissonant clashing tones that alternate and she sits back in her chair, fascinated by the lack of tables.

"Alright, class!" The same, balding, barefooted man, Mr. Sikowitz, or just Sikowitz, as the students call him, claps his hands together, "Today, we learn the importance of bucket acting!"

He holds out two buckets, and Tori furrows her eyebrows. _What does this guy even teach?_

"Jade, Beck, onstage!" It takes a moment for her to register that she's Jade, and she stands up, suddenly nervous.

_What am I supposed to do?_

"Your script is…" He waves his hands around wildly, legs standing far apart, almost in a wide squat, "The Bird Scene!"

Murmurs sound from the class and Tori is utterly confused, but Sikowitz already has them standing on stage with buckets placed over their heads.

Beck begins to speak, but Tori is unable to hear a word, and she's sure the class doesn't hear much earlier, to her relief. It goes silent, and she assumes it's her turn, muttering a couple of random words, wincing as they echo right back into her ears.

She rips the bucket off her head.

"Jade! You're supposed to keep the bucket on your head!" he scolds.

"I'm, er, claustrophobic," she hands the bucket to him, shaking her head. She's a terrible liar, and she knows it, but thank God Jade isn't. Her face remains impassive despite the fact she's internally panicking.

"Okay, Andre, get up there!"

She slumps into her colored plastic chair, watching in bewilderment that class that is being taught. Tori questions this man's qualifications.

She slips out of the door seconds after the bell rings, signaling the end of first period. She hurries to her locker, eyeing the lock… which she doesn't have the combination for, and sighs.

It takes a quick hack she memorized from a random TicToc video, involving tugging on the lock and spinning the dial until it locks. After about a minute she's in. Unfortunately, the slight delay gives Beck, Andre, and Cat enough time to catch up to her.

"Hey, Jade."

"Yeah?" she whirls around rapidly almost smacking Andre in the face as she does so.

"Whoa! Chill!," he backs away, hands up, palms facing her.

Beck chuckles, slipping an arm around her shoulders, "Jumpy much?"

"I didn't get enough sleep," is her vague response.

He just snorts, "You never do."

She makes a noise in her throat that's halfway between a noncommittal grunt and a huff of acknowledgment.

"Hey, wanna hang at my trailer tomorrow after school?"

 _Trailer?_ She fights a frown of confusion and plasters on a smile, "Yeah, sure."

He looks pleased, albeit a little worried at the smile, which she immediately wipes off her face.

And then they part ways, each heading to their respective classes. Jade has… screenwriting next, with Mr. Gradstein.

A single glance at him tells her he's not as easygoing as Sikowitz. He's dressed in a suit and tie, hair thinning and graying on top of his head.

"Jade, you're late."

"The late bell hasn't rung," Tori frowns, confused, just as the fourth bell of the day goes off. "Nevermind."

"Chair. Now." She hurries to the last available seat and grins sheepishly. She's met with wary looks and strange glances, but brushes it off, keeping her gaze fixed on the teacher.

"Alright. I hope you guys have your 10-page scripts finished. Late work will give you, at most, a 75. Hand them in." He pulls a wire container in the shape of a standard letter-size, probably for collecting assignments.

Tori's mouth is open, ready to object, but all the other students are already rising from their seats with a portfolio in hand. She looks into Jade's backpack, slumping with relief when she catches sight of a neatly bound script, definitely over ten pages. It's sandwiched neatly between a binder and a notebook, and Tori admires the organization before tossing the finished script into the bin. She hopes it's the right one.

Class proceeds without another hitch, although she shrinks in her skin every time Mr. Gradstein turns his simmering gaze on her. He's stoic, gaze harsh like he expects a lot out of his students. It unnerves her.

Her other classes are undoubtedly less dull and difficult as screenwriting, and she finds herself excelling in Algebra 2, having taken it before. She raises her hand and answers a decent amount of questions asked, which results in a couple of cocked eyebrows, but she takes no notice of it.

She finds music history challenging, however. She's only ever fiddled with the grand piano in her living room a couple of times, having quit lessons almost a full decade ago. She struggles to keep up, reminding herself it's a dream, over and over again, but it feels terrifyingly real.

She takes notes. Just in case.

Lunch arrives quickly, and she's unsure of where to sit until she sees Cat beckoning her over. She offers a weary smile, which makes the redheaded girl leap into her arms.

"Jadey!"

"Hey, Cat." She pats the girl on the back awkwardly, noting the shocked expressions of the boys, who are seated at the table.

"Why are _you_ in such a good mood?" Andre comments and Tori winces at that.

_Ah, they're getting suspicious. I'll just play it off as a good mood._

She shrugs, snatching a french fry from Beck's plate. He pushes his tray closer.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," she decides, not wanting to sit in silence with Jade's friends' gazes burning curiously into her.

She walks up to the truck where students are lined, up and raises an eyebrow when all the students shuffle out of line.

_Why is everyone scared of me?_

She hands the worker a five when, and before he orders, he hands her a coffee.

"Um, thanks." She sips it, bracing herself for the scalding liquid, but it's not too hot. And it's very bitter.

"Hey, uh, is there sugar in this?"

"Ya!" the foreign man responds, "Two sugars. Your usual?"

Tori frowns, "Uh, can I have two more sugars and some cream."

"Vot?" His accent is unidentifiable.

"Yeah, uh more sugar and cream… please."

He looks utterly confused, and the half-Latina feels sorry for the man.

He hands her back the cup nervously after disappearing into his truck for a minute. She takes an experimental sip, her face brightening.

"H-how is it?" he asks anxiously, and Tori almost laughs when she watches two students, older than Jade back away.

"It's good, thanks!" She fights the urge to skip back to her table, but it'd obviously arouse suspicion and bewilderment.

"Wait! Your change!" His vowels are clipped and she chuckles lightly at his accent before yelling back at him to keep it.

"What took so long?" Beck frowns, probably having seen but not heard the interaction.

"Um, he got my order wrong."

Dream Tori's boyfriend chuckles, "That's Festus for ya. But isn't he like, too terrified of you to get your order wrong?"

She winces at her wording. He hadn't gotten it wrong, per se. He'd given her Jade's usual order, which was a black coffee with two sugars.

She just shrugs again, taking a sip of her sweetened drink happily, snatching a few more fries— which are surprisingly good— from the long-haired boy's plate.

Lunch goes smoothly until Beck takes a sip of her coffee, coughing slightly in surprise when it touches his tongue.

"How much sugar is in here? Is that _cream_?"

"Uh…" she nods tentatively, "I just thought a little more sugar would keep me awake," she giggles nervously, giving her friends an uneasy smile. "I'm tired," she explains.

"O...kay," the actor frowns, brows stitching together.

She wills herself to wake up, for the dream to be over because she's come to the conclusion that lucid dreaming is kind of terrible.

She even shuts her eyes tightly and wrenches them open, but nothing happens; she stays in the cool air of the Asphalt Cafe.

It earns a confused giggle from Cat, "Why are you blinking like that?"

"Uh…"

"Ooh, are you trying to hear your blinking? One time, my brother-"

"Cat," she grits her teeth, clamping her jaw together. Why is this girl like this? Does she have issues?

The redheaded girl lets out a squeak before returning to her lunch.

Andre just eyes her weirdly, and if she could read people better, she'd say he has a crush on her. But she's unsure.

She carries on the rest of the day more cautiously, making a mental note to stop being so… Tori-like and be more Jade-like, whatever that means.

Tori has no idea where to go when school lets out, and she hesitantly walks out the front, scanning the streets for anyone that can help her when she catches sight of her mom.

She scurries over, dropping her backpack in the pre-opened trunk before plopping in the passenger seat.

Not knowing what to say, she keeps her mouth shut.

"So how was school?" Mrs. West asks, voice a little distant, almost as if her words are scripted. She wonders if Jade's father ever shows up around the house because it suddenly occurs to her that she's never seen him.

"Normal," she answers vaguely.

She receives no response or reaction, so she takes it as a sign she's doing a decent job of being Jade.

The dream lasts well into the night, which Tori finds strange, but she changes into her pajamas, head tipped up towards the ceiling to avoid seeing anything she shouldn't be looking at.

_Once glance won't… hurt._

It sort of does, because her jaw drops in the slightest and she's suddenly aware of the saliva coating her tongue, and oh my God, she's swooning over her own breasts.

She averts her gaze, cheeks burning, scolding herself for being like this because… well, it's technically her own body and infinitely awkward to be doing this.

She slips on the pajama top, groaning lowly with her hands over her cheeks, which blaze like fire against her cool palms.

_...Never again._

Although she doesn't refrain from another peek down her shirt.

_I'm crazy. I'm going crazy. You know what? I'm just going to sleep now and wake up from this dream and it will all go away…_

She takes deep breaths to cool off her rosy face; the blush is pretty substantial since Jade's skin is almost paper white.

She contemplates changing her panties, her cheeks already flaring at the thought. She decides against it, and pulls on loose pants, pulling herself under the covers.

She has to flick on the reading lamp on her nightstand in order to see the words on the journal that's already in her hands. She puts the ballpoint pen onto the paper, hesitating.

The pen is pulled off before a single mark can be made, and she opts to write her own name on her wrist instead, where Daniel had written his number on her own body.

It tickles, and she closes her fingers around it, clutching it to her chest. Something in her feels fuller than she feels when she's awake. And she relinquishes in the feeling before shutting off the light.

Her chest swells slightly when she squints at the _Tori_ written neatly into her wrist, dark against her pale skin, only visible from the sliver of light that seeps in through the bottom of the door.

She falls asleep with her hand clutched to her chest, nose pressed against the pillow, and drowns in _Jade._

* * *

Jade awakens to the ugly screaming that's taking place in the bathroom. It's not _screaming_ , per se. It's Trina Vega's attempt to hit the whistle notes in Mariah Carey's _Emotions._

She lets out a long groan, eyes slowly settling around the purple room. She's back. A soft alarm jingles from the blue PearPhone on the bedside table and she pokes blindly at the screen until it stops.

So she's Tori again.

She has to run her hand through the rat's nest on her head. She chuckles lightly at the knots; she's usually frustrated, but it amuses her how Tori can do that in her sleep. Well, Tori is technically dream Jade, but she still finds it funny.

It's already 7:30 by the time Trina strolls out of the bathroom and tells Tori to wait in the car.

Jade's eyebrows stitch together in disbelief; she really just took up the bathroom until it was time to leave. _How can someone be so… stuck-up and arrogant?_

She reminds herself this isn't her life, and she has no control over anything, so she just brushes out her hair with a hairbrush she assumes is Tori's because it has her name on it. She avoids touching anything that's Trina's; she's just utterly repulsed by her.

The thespian barely remembers to change out of her pajamas. She shuffles through the closet until she spots something not so pink or purple. And, oh, the feather earring.

She pulls out one that matches with the color shirt she's wearing, pushing the thin pin through the puncture in her ear. She likes the way it dangles down, grazing the top of her shoulder, and runs her hands across the soft fur of the feather.

By the time she's downstairs with her things, it's too late to eat breakfast, so she just climbs into her sister's car on an empty stomach. Not that there was breakfast anyway.

She grits her teeth so hard throughout the ride she's surprised her teeth haven't been ground into dust by the time she climbs out.

"Jesus Christ," she groans when Trina's voice cracks, "Can you not sing for once?"

"You're my sister," she turns down the music to glare at her, "You're supposed to think I'm good."

"Well, you're not."

"Who are you and what have you done with Tori?"

Jade freezes, panic flaring through her at the question, but she relaxes when she realizes it's a joke. The music is turned back up, and she has to grip the car door tightly to avoid inflicting damage on the older Vega sister. She sighs. She doesn't even have scissors on her.

She flees the vehicle as fast as she physically can, heading straight for her first-period class since she's almost late anyway. It occurs to her she has no idea what the rest of Tori's classes are, and she nibbles at her lower lip indecisively before deciding to go ask for a schedule in the office.

She approaches the front desk warily, keeping her expression calm and calculated, "Hey, erm, can I get a copy of my schedule?"

The people at the front don't look up, "Are you new here?"

She grimaces, "No, I just want a copy of my schedule… for reference."

"Isn't that on Aeries?" Jade isn't completely sure what that is.

"Well, yes, I just want a physical copy… please?" She resorts to being polite since no one in her dream universe is afraid of her, especially with this amazingly kind and joyful personality.

"What's your name?"

"Er, Victoria Vega." The name rolls off her tongue smoothly, and weirdly enough, her chest swells when she says it. Something flutters in her stomach.

A few minutes later, she saunters out of the office with a half sheet of paper, eyeing the classes warily. They're all senior classes, full of difficult courses like AP Psychology and AP Calculus BC.

She shoves the schedule into her backpack, heading towards the gym. It's almost refreshing to be able to walk without being seen, without being avoided and whispered about. She follows the multitude of students, the crowd slowly thinning out when she nears the gym, all the way in the back of the school.

Lola and Zoey are already there.

"What's with the dark clothes?" Lola's mouth quirks into a confused frown.

"They're not dark."

"Dude, you wear bright pink most days."

"Oh."

"Are you out of it again?"

 _Yes_ , she wants to say. _You have no idea._

"What do you mean?" she glares indignantly.

"See? You're being mean again," Zoey pipes up.

An eye roll and a sharp exhale later, they're shuffling into the locker room.

When Jade gets to Tori's locker, she notices the lock is snapped shut, locked. She recalls the combination from last time, N-E-R-D, and swings open the door to find… nothing.

"Oh my God, it's Monday," she groans, "I don't have my P.E. clothes."

Zoey raises an eyebrow, "How did you forget again?"

_How was I supposed to know to bring it?_

"I don't know," she snaps, combing a hand through her brunette hair.

"You can use mine," Zoey offers, shoving out the pair of clothes she pulls from her backpack.

"What about the name?" She doesn't ask about the fact that the blonde-haired girl will no longer have a pair because frankly, she doesn't care. Tori might, but Jade doesn't.

"Just tie your jacket around your waist or something."

The thespian eyes her doubtedly.

"I've tried it before. Mr. Folsom doesn't care for chiz."

"Okay."

So she does slip out of her clothes (with her eyes fixed on the ceiling) and slide on Zoey's. She feels a bit uncomfortable in clothes that aren't hers (or Tori's for that matter), but this is a dream (she thinks), and in no way is she able to control what happens to her.

They head outside to the numbers, the weak sun shrouded by the clouds, the cool breeze bringing a biting chill that intensified as they neared Christmas. It takes Jade a couple of moments to recall the number she's supposed to sit on, and Lola frowned.

"Why do you look so grumpy and tired today?"

"I didn't get coffee," she grumbles, her natural response, and when she realizes she's not, well, _Jade,_ her head shoots up, ready to defend her response because Tori probably didn't drink coffee, but the Latina just shrugs.

"I'll drive you at lunch."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks!" She brightens the slightest bit immediately, looking forward to the time when she could have the bitter, caffeinated liquid, scorching (pleasurably) a path down her throat.

_Perks of being a senior, I guess. Tori gets to leave campus at lunch… lucky._

P.E. is just as torturous as the first day Jade had been Tori in her dream, but she figures she won't get away with faking being sick again. She jogs at a slow pace, her legs burning after thirty seconds.

"I hate P.E.," she groans when the single whistle blows, all the students slowing to a leisurely walk.

"We all do," Zoey huffs, chest rising and falling quickly as she catches her breath alongside her friends. Well, one friend and a person she didn't know was a stranger.

For a moment, Jade's convinced it's not a dream. Because she's feeling physical pain— _and not the good kind._

And it just feels _so real_ , and she wonders if dreams are possibly so vivid.

But is there any other possibility? It's not like she's taking over Tori's life for a day; Tori's probably not even a real person.

It mentally drains her to even think of something so confusing, and she barely realizes that she's completed all the running without even noticing.

She turns to the other two girls, "Hey, uh, do you ever wonder if you're dreaming?"

She receives bewildered looks.

"Like, I mean… do you ever just ever wonder if you're actually dreaming instead of living?"

"...no?"

She releases a heaving sigh through her lips, teeth worrying at her lower lip while she tries to figure out what in the name of chiz is going on in her life.

Last time, the dream lasted until she fell asleep. While it clearly isn't the _same_ dream, it's obviously a _continuous_ dream. Events that happen before carry over.

She shakes her head to clear the thoughts; it's too much, and she just needs to focus on getting through the day so the dream will end. Jade contemplates laying down on the field and sleeping so (maybe) she'll switch back, but she doubts she'll even get close to unconsciousness before she's woken.

"Tori!"

It occurs to her Lola and Zoey have been calling her name.

"Yeah?" she responds wearily.

"Group?"

"What for?" she doesn't bother hiding the lack of interest in her voice. It's so clearly not Tori and shines through in her voice, but acting like some girl she doesn't even know is just far too difficult.

"Soccer? Didn't you hear Mr. Folsom?"

"Yeah. Sure, sure."

Jade doesn't miss the confused looks the girls swap between them as they go fetch a ball.

The rest of the day is just as terrible.

She struggles through the classes; they're all clearly courses meant to be taken after passing easier intro courses. The fact that they are Advanced Placement classes only makes it so much harder for Jade.

English comes very easy despite it being a senior class; luckily for her, the entire class is taken up by an exam on Harper Lee's _To Kill A Mockingbird_ , which she already read freshman year. It's a relief so see multiple-choice and essay questions she's seen before so she welcomes the easy class.

She falls asleep in AP Calculus BC. She's tired, but she's also eager to test the theory that this dream ends when she sleeps.

Jade wakes up when the bell startles her into consciousness, and she scrambles to shove everything in her backpack when the students begin to file out.

"Tori," the teacher's voice stops her, and she turns around, suddenly anxious.

 _Being nice is taking its toll on me…_ she huffs silently, shifting. _Why am I nervous?_

"You fell asleep in class today," the teacher— Jade forgot her name— points out, not unkindly.

She nods in response.

"You're usually one of my best students. Is something wrong?" The concern in her gaze almost breaks Jade; she's aware the woman thinks she is Tori, but even so, it's nice to see someone, a stranger, look so genuinely concerned.

She shakes her head, offering a small smile. Jade's not going to lie, it feels nice. "Just tired."

"Get more sleep, Tori," the teacher just chuckles, "I know I'm not the counselor or anything, but I'm here if you just wanna spew a rant."

She finds it slightly odd that a teacher would offer this, but she just gives a weary smile, "Thanks for caring…" her gaze flashes to the barely visible name tag on the teacher's desk, "Ms. Tran."

"No problem. Now shoo, I don't want you being late."

So she does, glancing discreetly at the schedule she has tucked into her palm. AP Psych.

It then occurs to her: _If this is a dream, why am I following all the rules? Why am I playing along? Why am I going to class?_

She eyes the classroom numbers, wandering until she finds the building with the classroom numbers close to her next class.

She falls asleep in Psychology too.

She's awoken halfway when a video starts playing on the board. Her head shoots up from where it had fallen on top of her arms, her heart dropping like it always does when she wakes up too quickly.

The teacher doesn't notice, to her relief.

Lunch comes and she strolls leisurely to the parking lot, all too ready to just leave campus, even if it's only for an hour.

Lola is waiting by her car and Jade climbs in, backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Why are you bringing your backpack?"

"Huh?"

"You can leave your backpack under our usual lunch table."

"Oh, right, yeah," she chucks her backpack when she gets within a few feet of the table and saunters back.

"Why are you being weird again?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jade winces when her voice goes shrill; she's not used to having such a high voice, at least not since middle school.

"You literally _look_ different!" Lola bursts out, "You have this different look in your eyes and you always look like you're bored of life. You usually are smiling, and if not, your face is still bright. But now you just look dull, like you're wearing some mask that isn't you!"

She freezes in the passenger seat, looking over at the Latina, who's already backing out of the parking space. Jade snaps her seatbelt on.

"Can we just get coffee?" she says at last, quietly, her voice small. And although the voice is coming out of her own throat, it's pitiful and laced with resignation, and it makes the thespian ache for no particular reason.

"Yeah."

They go to Jet Brew, a coffee shop a little over five minutes from campus, and Jade feels as if she should recognize this place, but she doesn't.

_Sherwood's pretty far from Hollywood. I suppose I wouldn't know this Jet Brew._

They get in line and order, and when they sit down, paper cups in hand, Lola eyes Jade's cup when she opens it to dump in a couple of packets of sugar.

"Is that _black coffee_?"

"Yeah."

"But you hate black coffee!"

"Hence the two sugars."

"Don't usually get some sickly sweet caramel macchiato or something?"

"I like black coffee," she frowned defensively, bringing the cup to her lips.

"Wha- nevermind. You're being weird again."

Jade shrugs, sipping the familiar liquid, letting it burn her tongue.

After a couple of sips, her taste buds are pleasantly burned off and Lola just narrows her eyes, "How are you drinking that?"

"It tastes better hot."

"Doesn't it burn your tongue."

"It feels good."

"When did you become a masochist?"

 _I always was_ , she thinks with a smirk, _I'm not Tori. Tori's normal…_

She just shrugs. She knows answering vaguely and ignoring questions infuriates people. It absolutely delights her.

On the car ride back to campus, Jade feels a slight twinge of guilt at Lola's concerned expression. _Maybe I shouldn't have- whoa, why am I suddenly apologetic. Being Tori's really getting to me._

She finds AP Physics considerably easier, although it's still difficult. She silently thanks her mother for hiring a private tutor in AP-level Chemistry the summer before school started. Besides, she needs to know all kinds of physical science if she's going to write and direct films in the future.

Jade is fidgety when she gets home; probably from the coffee. In real life, she's so used to regularly consuming caffeinated drinks it barely affects her, but dream her, in this body, is not adjusted to the caffeine, and she can feel it pulsing through her veins and supplying her unnecessary energy.

When she gets home that afternoon, she finds her fingers curling into fists at the untidiness of Tori's room.

She uses all that restless energy to tidy it, for hours. She folds the clothes that are draped messily over the two chairs in the room, tucking them neatly into drawers. Any hoodies and jackets are hung onto hangers and stored inside the closet with the sliding door. She takes the guitar from the floor and stuffs it back into its case, as well as the ukulele. The dust on them reveals that Tori probably hasn't touched them lately.

Scattered pencils are shoved into the tin holder, but when it proves it cannot hold them all, she empties the holder and arranges everything so it's perpendicular to the table. Any loose papers are stacked and left on the table; Jade's not completely sure what to do with them.

She wanders to the bookshelf, her arms full of books that had stacked up on the table and shoves them in empty slots before deciding it can be neater. She arranges all the books in height order, the tallest starting at the left. All series of books are arranged in chronological order.

There's still a lot of trash on the floor, so she stacks boxes, and shoves empty packages in the trash. By the time the sun has set, the room is spotless… almost.

A portion of the carpet is flattened and dusty from having so many things piled on top of it, but now, completely exposed, it looked absolutely disgusting. So she vacuums it, dragging the electronic appliance until nothing but parallel lines remain on the floor.

Satisfied, she tucks it away and wanders back over to the desk, where there is nothing except for an organized stack of papers in one corner and a pencil holder in another. All leftover items such as pencil sharpeners and a tissue box is tucked against the wall. She hesitates for a moment before emptying the tin pencil holder once again, shoving all the pencils in the sharpener and cranking the handle until the tips shaved to a point. She rearranges them back in the holder, even sorting pens by color until the round tin can looks like a color picker.

She moves the Monobook into the center of the wooden desk, plugging in the charger. The majority of the wire is tucked into an empty drawer next to the table, just enough wire hanging out to reach the charging hole.

The room is almost completely unrecognizable, and Jade lets out a satisfied, heading over to the bathroom to wash her hands.

She decides against showering.

(She blushes at the thought of it.

Not that she would ever admit it.)

So instead, she wets a towel and runs it over the back of her neck and scrubs her face with it.

She slips out of the top and pants until she's left only in her underwear. She averts her eyes as she wrings the towel out in the sink, but she finds her gaze drifting upwards until she's looking at herself in the mirror.

It brings a flush to her cheeks, barely noticeable because of her tan skin.

Her eyes travel across the expanse of smooth skin, long legs, flat stomach. A part of her wonders what it would be like to see this girl from her own perspective, from Jade's body, and take her into her arms and just run her hands and lips across the perfect skin and— _God, not these thoughts. I can't think like this. Nuh-uh._

With a little reluctance, she holds the towel under the running water once more and wipes it across her limbs and stomach, as well as on her back, as high as she can reach.

She slips on pajamas, wriggling slightly in the light fabric, soft against her skin. A light blush coats her cheeks and neck, still, which she finds adorable.

Until she realizes she's looking in the mirror, that is.

There's something about this girl, _Tori Vega_ that's so clearly not _Jade West_ , she forgets she's technically her. There's nothing alike about the two, from eye and hair color down to every last aspect of their personalities. As far as Jade has gauged from other people's reactions, at least.

Dinner passes without a hitch; she takes advantage of the fact Tori's a terrible liar, and stays silent, casually explaining that she's just tired.

No one questions her.

She retires to her room for the night, arranging her backpack so no crumpled paper remains stuck at the bottom.

It occurs to her that Tori probably has homework, so she pulls out the agenda and all the binders until she finds the worksheets and certain pages she has to complete.

Thank God she had an English test that day; there's no homework for that class. Still, there are still simple worksheets for her other classes and a couple of textbook problems from Calculus.

She doesn't exactly want to do this unnecessary work, but she has time to spare before she's too tired to sleep, and she'd rather do the homework than marinate in her thoughts that range from existential to dirty.

All physics homework is completed first; she searches up the questions she doesn't know and fills out everything she does know in a generic handwriting that's not completely her own. Psychology has something on, Jade squints at the agenda, Zaplook Classroom, something she quickly discovers is an app. She pulls it open and opens the corresponding class.

It's a simple video analysis question, so she watches the video and taps out an answer on the attached ZaplookDocs. She's a writer; it's not hard.

Calculus proves to be a problem so she pulls up Slater.com, finding the correct textbook, and entering the page number. All answers and explanations pop up, and she fills in the answers mindlessly on a blank sheet of lined paper.

By eleven at night, she has all the work arranged neatly back into the backpack, which is placed at the foot of the bed. She brushes her teeth like she normally would, using the toothbrush marked with Tori's name.

She glances at herself in the mirror one last time, a small smile ghosting her lips at the sight of the familiar brown eyes she's come to recognize as her own just as much as her bluish-green ones.

Out-of-tune humming trickles from the bathroom, and the thespian surprises herself when she finds that she has no reaction to it. Maybe she's getting used to it. Or maybe being Tori is getting to her. For once, she accepts the irritable sound as home and laughs to herself at a particularly hilarious voice crack. It doesn't vex her as it would if she were to hear it as herself.

It pleases her and troubles her at the same time.

Jade dozes off to a troubled sleep that night with a single word, a single name burned into her mind, her lips uttering the word in a soft murmur, almost like a mantra, over and over again.

_Tori._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this whole thing was done really fast, so if you see any mistakes or typos, it'd be very much appreciated if you could point them out for us! any constructive criticism is welcomed as well! :)


	5. October 13th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that when texting, Jade is always on the right and Tori is always on the left, regardless of point of view. :)

Jade wakes up with her dream still fresh in mind. She can already feel the details slowly ebbing as her sluggishness slowly wears off as her screeching alarm plays.

She reaches to turn it off.

Her body is splayed on under her covers as she lays there, motionless recalling the events of her dream. She had been a different person in her dream, that same girl, again. She went to school and was a senior. Despite the fading memories, Jade still remembers quite clearly surfing the Internet for homework answers.

She frowns. That's weird. She usually only remembers dreams if they're nightmares, and this one didn't even come close. In fact, it's easily the most boring and long dream she's had in her life.

 _We don't know how long we dream_ , she reminds herself. Maybe it had only been several minutes but felt like a really long time. After all, time is relative.

She wiggles her way out of her pajamas and slips on a random pair of clothes, noticing with a frown her backpack slumped by her desk. Her heart skips a beat when she goes to check it, stuttering once more when she realizes her homework is incomplete.

She knows it shouldn't bother her, since she can simply scare the teachers into giving her another day without consequences, but she feels like it's _wrong_.

_Since when did I care?_

Studying the papers, she frowns to herself. _I remember doing homework last night, did I not?_

Memories burn in her mind, typing a paragraph based on some video, calculus?

It then hits her that it had been part of her dream.

 _I need to get more sleep,_ she chides to herself, _I'm mixing up details from my dreams into my real life now._

She pulls out the little homework she has; she goes to an Arts school, many of the classes, especially Sikowitz's don't include much work.

She finishes in about ten minutes, packing up everything neatly into her backpack, binders in the back, smaller books in the front. Her PearBook is slipped into the slot in the back.

After, she continues with her morning routine, as usual, brushing her teeth and using the toilet, then putting on whatever colored highlights she felt like using.

She's about to head out of the room when the door swings open.

"Jade, hurry up! Are you touching your boobs again?" Jasper calls, slightly muffled; his mouth is full of food.

She glares at him, "What?"

He squeaks and flees, leaving her eyebrows stitched together.

_Touching my boobs? What?_

With a bewildered shake of her head, she continues walking to her dining room for breakfast.

"Morning," her mom doesn't look up from her place at the table, and Jade plops down, picking up her fork to impale several pieces of fruit.

"Jade, what's that on your wrist?"

"Huh?"

"You wrote on your wrist. You know that can give you skin cancer."

"Yeah, I don't care."

She glances at her arm, and at the sight of the word inked carefully on her skin makes her heart stop.

_Tori._

She frowns at it, tracing her thumb over the ink. It's in a similar handwriting to the short note that had been left in her notebook, and it makes her heart suddenly pound so hard in her chest she's convinced it's going to burst out and splatter onto the floor.

_I didn't write this. Who's Tori? Is she a partner for one of my pro- Oh._

Everything clicks into place, like a missing puzzle piece that has been found under the table. Tori. The girl from her dream. The girl she _was_ in her last two dreams.

Her chest swells for a moment, and Jade feels... complete. Only for a moment, though. Within several heartbeats, the feeling slips away along with more details of her dream.

_Who wrote this, then?_

She's slightly panicked, and her breaths are beginning to come in shorter gasps as her throat closes, and she shoves a piece of fruit in her mouth before she excuses herself, quickly retreating to her room.

She paces the floor, even the sight of the zombie on her _The Scissoring_ poster offering no comfort.

"Tori, Tori, Tori, Tori," she mutters to herself. Each time she says it, something inside her twitches, almost pleasantly.

She flips rapidly through her notebook, finding the worn page with the three short words on it, the same three words that bring a jolt through her no matter the number of times she looks at it.

There's nothing else there that gives her any more information, and she scrolls through her phone, clenching her fingers frustratedly when she comes up with nothing.

She tries to think back to the day before, but all she's getting is _Tori Tori Tori_ , and she's not sure she can distinguish dream from reality. It feels like she's living two separate lives, with two separate personalities and thoughts and feelings and people, and she's confused and utterly bewildered at what's happening. She's barely able to form a coherent thought.

Jade thinks back to the previous week before she started having these crazy dreams. It had been the last time she felt complete when she was awake. Now she felt like she was missing something.

The puzzle still isn't complete, and she feels like she's crawling on the floor, searching desperately for the last few pieces to complete the holes, but they're not there. And without them, she's unable to see the full picture.

She flips to the next blank page, where the date reads _October 13th_. Her fingers twitch incessantly, and she pulls the pen out of the spiral binding, uncapping it quickly.

Her hand seems to move of its own accord, writing across the lines until almost half of the page is filled with her neat manuscript. It resembles a part of her diary entry from a few days before, but she rewrites it anyway.

_I had the same dream of the same girl again. I was her. I think her name is Tori. She has brunette hair and soulful brown eyes. High cheekbones, tan skin. I'm not sure it has anything to do with me being so confused these days. I feel like I'm skipping through the days, and I can only remember certain days, with blank gaps in some others. It's so weird, and it sounds crazy. I've found two notes, both in the same familiar handwriting, that I know I didn't write. But if you're Tori, and you're seeing this, please tell me I'm not going crazy. I need an explanation, and I'm aware of the possibility that this might be happening to you too? Jade._

She lets out a frustrated groan, slamming the book shut. She's going crazy. She knows she is. It's completely absurd, what she's thinking is happening to her. There's no way, but it seems like the only possibility. Unless she's going insane.

"Jade! Hurry! You're going to be late!" Her mom's voice yells from the kitchen, and she sighs, shoving it into the front of her backpack.

As per usual, she withdraws the scissors from her boot and tucks it into her waistband before sliding on the shoes.

When she arrives at school, pushing through the door, her boyfriend saunters up.

"Hey! We still on for tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"I meant after school."

She gives him a quizzical look.

"At my trailer?" When she doesn't respond, he continues, "Yesterday, you said we could hang out in my RV after school."

"Right, yeah," she mutters distractedly, her toes curling when she realizes she has absolutely no recollection of the invitation.

"Are... you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"But..."

"Yeah, gimme a sec, I just need a moment..." she walks off, her legs moving fast, boots clicking on the floor. She's almost shaking when she crashes into someone.

"Jade!" Sikowitz is holding a coconut, as usual, his hair sticking out in tufts in all directions, as usual. "Hi! How's your claustrophobia?"

"I'm not claustrophobic," she raises an eyebrow.

"Yesterday you were," he muses, sipping from the colored straw that is inserted in a hole in the thick shell of the tropical fruit.

Her mouth falls open as if she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

He notices the crazed look in her eyes, "What's wrong?"

"I think something's wrong with me," she blurts out, uncharacteristically. She bounces in place, and her hands are shaking as she continues to speak quickly, spilling to this teacher she probably can't even trust, "I-I don't know what's happening, but I feel like I'm forgetting things. There are gaps in my memory, and apparently I've been weird lately, but I have absolutely no recollection of it!"

"Whoa slow down," the acting teacher pats her, and she doesn't even flinch from his touch. "Want to go talk to Lane?"

She shakes her head, "Nevermind. I don't know why I said that. I just- I gotta go," she runs to the bathroom, locking herself in a stall. She tries to breathe slowly, the panicked feeling from this morning rushing back. A quick glance at the name on her wrist calms her down a little bit, but she's too scared and confused to form any coherent thoughts.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Her trips to the bathroom during classes resulted in the _Tori_ on her wrist being scrubbed off, any ink that had been on her skin swirling down the drain with the last of memories. She feels out-of-control, weird, confused, chaotic, and by the time she visits the bathroom for the seventh time that day, the skin on her wrist is red, rubbed raw from relentless scrubbing.

A faint trace of the letters remains despite the incessant scrubbing, but her skin feels sensitive and raw, and she brings it to her lips, giving the skin a soft kiss over what's left of the word.

Something flutters in her stomach. Butterflies, maybe.

***

The next few days are just as torturous for Jade. Every morning, she wakes up wildly alert, immediately flipping through her black spiral journal to check if the message she had left had gotten a response.

Each morning, she comes up empty, the bottom half of the page still empty, blank. She slumps over, and sobs into the crook of her elbow until her brother barges in.

She doesn't even remember which nights she dreams; just that she has the same recurring dream, a continuation of the same timeline.

After about a week or so (she's not completely sure), she's ready to give up, her heart heavy despite the fact she feels like everything has drained out in a crudely torn hole.

And there it is. A response.

Her heart leaps into her chest at the familiar script. In an instant, her heart feels full, and it aches as her eyes skim the letters.

She begins to read it.

**_Thank God! I thought I was going crazy, but turns out it's happening to you too! I don't completely know what's happening, but I think we might be switching bodies? It sounds insane, and I can't wrap my mind around it. I've done a lot of research, and it seems physically impossible, but it seems like it's not a dream. We're taking over each other's bodies for a day, and that's why we don't remember what's happening, I presume. Tell me if I'm right. Tori._ **

**_Contact me:_ torontovega219@zmail.com**

There's no phone number, so Jade opens her email and types in the address. She's not completely sure what to write, and her heart is doing that fluttery thing again, the thing where it palpitates in her throat and she feels like she's going to explode. Her stomach twists.

She brings her fingers to the keyboard, beginning to tap out a vague email that doesn't reveal too much about her current predicament just in case the email is wrong. She double-checks it over and over again, just to make sure the contact isn't wrong. And then she sends it.

**_To_ ** _:_ _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ _  
_**_From_ ** _:_ _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 9:19 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _hello_

_Hey, I got this zmail off a note. Please tell me if I have the right person._

_Thanks._ _  
__J_

Jade closes her laptop, clutching her chest as her heart beats at a fast pace, reading the note again and again until she has it memorized, word for word.

She's still deciding whether she's anxious or excited for a response, so she flips open her PearBook, attempting to write something on ZaplookDocs, but ultimately just achieving nothing and reloading Zmail every minute.

After fifty-four words and three-quarters of an hour, something comes through, and the actor almost jumps out of her seat at the new unread email. She brings the cursor over to it with a quivering finger and clicks it.

 **_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:04 am (1 minute ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _hiiiiiii_

_Hiii! Ohmygod, I can't believe this actually worked! This can't be physically possible, but it's the only explanation. I think we're actually switching bodies!!!_

_P.S What the frick did you do to my room??? I literally had a heart attack the second I woke up, and that was not a great way to start my day >:((_

Jade laughs out loud at the enthusiasm behind the messages. She freaking _laughs_. To be frank, she thinks it's adorable, not that she would ever admit it.

She reads the email a couple of times over before responding.

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:09 am (38 seconds ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Re: hiiiiiii_

_Well, I'm glad to know I'm not the only one. This is actually crazy. Do you have any idea what could've caused this? I actually thought I was dreaming until I got your notes, and I was absolutely confused because there's no way someone could've left them there without being me._

_On that note... you read my diary, didn't you?_

_P.S. Yes. Your room was bothering me. You're welcome._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:11 am (0 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Re: hiiiiiii_

_No... if I knew, I would've said something! I've studied a lot of science, and some extensive research has told me that nothing about this strange situation is scientifically possible, but here we are, so I guess it is. I wonder if it has anything to do with quantum physics... quantum entanglement, maybe._

_And erm... yeah, I did. What do you expect me to do when I'm some stranger in what I think is a dream? I didn't expect it to happen again_.

_P.S. It's not that I am ungrateful, it was just...unexpected. Thank you :))_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:15 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Your such a nerd_

_Have you considered magic, maybe? I've never been one to believe in the unseen, but I've seen miracles, things that make me believe that maybe God does exist..._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:16 am (52 seconds ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _**you're_

_Huh, never would have pegged you for the type to even consider magic, let alone believe in God._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:18 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Murphy's law states that the best way to get an answer is not to ask a question but to provide a wrong answer_

_Well, I'm pretty unpredictable if you ask me. There's a lot you don't know about me_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:21 am (1 minute ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _**Cunningham's... clever... I... cannot tell if that was intentional_

_Then I wanna get to know you!! Tell me about yourself!_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:24 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _I am many things but an idiot is not one of them_

_I'm Jade. 14 years old, freshman at Hollywood Arts, I'm double-majoring in singing and acting although acting's more my thing._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:24 am (0 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Who's the nerd now?_

_*snorts*...I pretty much got all of that by literally living in your body for a few days. Although you did seem older than 14 at first glance..._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:25 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Still you, dork_

_Fine. What do you want to know?_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:26 am (1 minute ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Meanie. You're the 14-year-old spouting crap about these laws._

_You! What are the secrets to becoming Jade West? I mean, if we're switching, you might as well tell me about yourself before I find out myself._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:28 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Yeah, and you're spewing shit about quantum mechanics_

_That's classified information._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:29 am (14 seconds ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Language!_

_I suppose I could just go find out for myself... after all, it's not my life I'm affecting._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:29 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Dorkkkkkkkkkk_

_*gasp* Is our pristine little Tori threatening me? You do realize I could do the same? But fine... you now have access to all parts of me._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:31 am (32 seconds ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _shut your face hole before I do_

_...that sounds so wrong on so many levels_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:34 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _ooh, kinky_

_Omg, get your mind out of the gutter_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:36 am (1 minute ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _This is too much for my virgin eyes... stahp_

_You're the one who said it!_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:39 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _hmm... but are my... assets? You did say I didn't seem 14..._

_And you were the one who made it dirty!_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:42 am (0 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _....wut_

_Ack, can you just tell me about yourself, so I don't make a fool of myself the next time we switch?_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:45 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _you know what I mean, Vega. I'm sure you've seen... them_

_Changing the subject, I see..._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:46 am (2 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _My name's Tori_

_Literally, just tell me about yourself, and we can set some ground rules for... this body-switching if that's even what it is._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:48 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _no, it's Victoria, And your last name's Vega... last I checked_

_No showering._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:49 am (3 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _I go by Tori tho_

_What?_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:52 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Okay, Vega_

_Ground rules, you idiot. You said so yourself. No showering when we're in each other's bodies. We don't need to see... unnecessary parts... unless you want to, that is ;)_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:54 am (0 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Why are you such a meanieeeeee_

_No no no, I'm very good._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:55 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Because you're switching bodies with a girl who is the epitome of "meanie." All I can say is... good luck_

_Are you though? ;)_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:56 am (29 seconds ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _...what have I gotten myself into_

_Why are you so... irritating and... cocky? sldkfjldfjdfghj_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:55 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _So you got us into this?_

_I bet you like it that way..._

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:56 am (2 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _no! That's not what I meant!_

_..._

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 10:59 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Well, I didn't do anything... why shouldn't I blame you?_

_Don't have anything to say for yourself, Vega?_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:01 am (31 seconds ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _I'm done. BYE!_

_That's it. BYE!_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:03 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Nuuuu, don't go_

_:3_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** ****_ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:11 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _You still there?_

_Happy 11:11... Screw you for turning me into a dork_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:11 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _(no subject)_

_...just text me... it's faster than email_

Jade inserts her phone number under it. Her lips are twitching, her cheeks still aching from grinning stupidly throughout their email conversation.

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:13 am (3 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _So you admit you're a dork as welllllll_

_Isn't texting a little too... casual? Informal?_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:17 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _... fuck you_

_THAT'S what you're worried about? ...dude I'm not refreshing my email every few seconds for the next... I don't know how long_

**_To:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:19 am (2 minutes ago)_

**_Subject:_ ** _Please refrain from using provocative combinations of the english lexicons_

_I hate youuuuu_

**_To:_ ** _ torontovega219@zmail.com _ **_  
_** **_From:_ ** _ xscissorluvx726@zmail.com _

_Sent 11:21 am (just now)_

**_Subject:_ ** _(dork)_

_Nah, you love me._

**[a/n: if you didn't notice the double conversation, go back and reread the other conversation in the subject ;)]**

Just then, Jade's phone chimes, and she dives for it immediately, grabbing the small device off her sheets.

**[a/n: remember, tori is on the left and jade is on the right, regardless of who's bodies they're in.]**

_Unknown Number_

**Hey?**

She doesn't even try to hold back laughter at the meme. She quickly adds her to her contact list. It's weird seeing her name there, she finds.

**Hey yourself.**

**For the record I do not "love you"**

**We'll see ;)**

**Omg why are you like this?**

**Out of all people... I had to switch with you**

**Be grateful**

**I now how have to learn 12th grade stuff**

**And you're basically returning to 9th grade**

**That's fair**

**But I assume you're smart enough to handle it**

**What makes you think that?**

**You survived a few days...**

**Okay**

**I ditched every class on the first day**

**And slept through AP Calc on the next**

**Ahahaha good luck**

**> :(**

**You realize I can fail all your classes...right?**

**You wouldn't dare**

**Really?**

**I mean according to my calculations you need 10 more credits in English...**

**The very class I helped you ace the TKAM test on...**

**Well...**

**What did you get on that test?**

**Um... idk**

**...**

**I can guarantee it's above a 95**

**If not... screw that test...**

**I mean, I did my best despite the fact I thought it was a dream**

**Hello?**

**Yeah, you got a 105**

**Well, technically I did... heh**

**And what do you say...?**

**Thank youuuuuuuuu**

**Easiest class of my life**

**We read TKAM freshman year lmao**

**I mean, you go to an arts high school**

**I've always wanted to go to HA**

**Did you just...**

**?**

**What?**

**WHAT?**

**Abbreviate Hollywood Arts-**

**Sacrilegious**

**Okay**

**You actually freaked me out for a second**

**Wth was that for**

**Dude you can't abbreviate Hollywood Arts**

**That's like a cardinal sin**

**Noted.**

**But really, I kinda wish I chose Hollywood Arts...**

**Why?**

**Your untalented sister?**

**Jade!**

**That's mean!**

**:)**

**And true...**

**But she got into UCLA just because she went to Hollywood Arts!**

**I've always wanted to go to a normal public school**

**What?**

**Why?**

**My entire life, my mom's always pushed me to be better than everyone else**

**Hence the art school**

**It's a lot of pressure... and honestly? It sucks**

**...I'd give a lot to attend Hollywood Arts**

**Prestigious private school for crazy talented people...**

**But I've always wanted to be a normal student for once, you know?**

**Just be considered talented because I'm talented compared to everyone else**

**Just be praised because I have no competition in the leads for the musicals**

**I don't know why I'm telling you this**

**Excuse me**

**It just came out**

**You think that's why we switched?**

**?**

**What if we switched because someone saw that like we wanted each other's lives?**

**Like this person or thing made us switch because we wanted it**

**Wow... I didn't think of that**

**But whoever it is... I need to kill them**

**What? Why?**

**Okay you out of all people should know**

**It's been a pain honestly**

**Like... I'd rather slam my tongue in a car door**

**Graphic**

**I've been so confused and exhausted**

**Like I'm living two lives**

**And I have to be you and put up this whole charade**

**You're an actor**

**It's easy for you**

**I can't even lie**

**Which I blatantly use to my advantage ;)**

**Bruh**

**Don't bruh me**

**But seriously... I'm not an actor**

**I... don't know how I'ma pull this off**

**Do you know how exhausting it is to be nice to people?**

**Welcome to my life**

**Do you know how draining it is to even muster the energy to hate someone?**

**Welcome to my life**

**It sucks**

**That's wonderful**

**Is that sarcasm?**

**Wut**

**Did little Miss Sweet Sally Peaches just use sarcasm?**

**Oh shut up**

**I am wounded**

**Good for you**

**And I thought you were nice**

**Yeah only to people who actually don't hate me**

**I don't hate you**

**I'm flattered**

**Really though**

**I hate people**

**I don't hate you**

**I can see you typing**

**What's taking so long?**

**Dude**

**Are you dead?**

**...**

**Really?**

**4 minutes and that's all you say**

**...so why don't you hate me?**

**Why should I tell you that?**

**Idk I'll tell you something about me**

**Tell me why it took you so long to text me after I sent that email**

**Ugh fine ok**

**I'm waiting...**

**You first**

**Ughhh**

**Fine**

**I was trying to muster up the courage to text you**

**Wha**

**Like, you seem so confident and you know what you want**

**And on top of that you're this really pretty girl who's younger than me but probably like wayyy more talented and smart than I'll ever be**

**Aw, you think I'm pretty?**

**Shuddup**

**I think... from certain angles... maybe... you're pretty...**

Jade's blushing. She knows it. She can feel her cheeks blazing as she rereads the text message, and she has no idea why. It frightens her, to say the least. That some stranger she's never met can make her react by a simple text message.

She shuts off her phone with a groan when she doesn't receive a response, throwing it on the bed next to her.

"I'm so stupid," she moans to herself. Jade almost rolls off the bed when her phone chimes, the bed vibrating with the phone.

**:)**

The simple happy face makes her heart flutter and a ghost of a smile twitches at her lips.

**You could say I'm pretty**

Despite the casual text, Jade would never admit she needs the confirmation, the validation from this stranger she's switching bodies with, and has never met in her life. She longs and pleads and seeks and _craves_ this validation from Tori... some girl who shouldn't even be making her feel this way.

Out-of-control. Scared. Strange. Vulnerable.

Human.

**You are pretty.**

**Are you just saying that or do you mean it?**

**I mean it.**

**Pinky promise.**

**I don't make promises**

**Maybe you should**

**Some are worth making**

Jade grips the phone as something in her stomach flaps wildly. _I must be hungry. I haven't eaten anything this morning._

**I'll consider it...**

**Any pinky promise?**

**You're such a dorkkkk**

**:{)**

There's the simple little emoticon that can mean so much. She doesn't know what to make of it. It has a mustache. And it's smiling. So she smiles back.

**I'm taking your word on that**

**Trust me**

**I don't trust people**

**Why not?**

**Haven't found someone worth trusting, I guess**

**Not even your boyfriend?**

**No.**

**That sounds like a lonely way to live...**

**Better safe than sorry**

**Jade**

**Vega**

**West**

**Vega**

**...**

**Consider trusting me**

**We're switching lives already**

**Give me a reason**

**There doesn't have to be a reason for everything**

**So I could get away with saying there's no reason I don't hate you?**

**Not like that you idiot**

**Nerd**

**Stahp**

**Bruh just tell me**

**1) Stop using bruh**

**2) You can't make me**

**...please**

**Ugh fine**

**Yay!**

**Idk man... being you makes me feel like I'm worth something**

**You have a family that cares for you... and experiencing that is... different**

**...so it has nothing to do with me?**

**Oh it has everything to do with you**

**You bring out the human in me**

**It's nice to not feel like a monster or alien for once**

**:)**

**You are so poetic**

**Oh shut up**

**I just spilled everything to you**

**(which in case you want to know never happens so idk what powers you are using on me)**

**Thank you... Jade**

**For what?**

**For telling me**

**For being so great with this whole situation**

**I'm glad it's you**

**And not someone else**

**Okay?**

**This situation sucks...**

**But I'm really glad you're on the other side**

**Thanks for being the one**

**You're making it sound like I'm your eugh soulmate**

**You never know...**

**Vega... do you have a crush on me?**

Her heart leaps into her throat the moment her finger hits the blue button. It's irreversible; she's not able to unsend it. So she waits anxiously for a response

**For the record it's Tori**

**And... I still need to figure things out**

**I don't even know you**

**Talk later?**

**I need to go eat lunch**

Jade slumps over, her shoulders falling. A glance at her clock shows that it is, in fact, lunchtime and that the two have been texting all morning.

**Yeah sure**

**We can go over rules and shit then**

She just wants to see that dorkiness one more time. Jade would never in her life admit that she finds it adorable, but it occurs to her that it is. She doesn't push the thought away.

**Language!**

**You are so easy Vega**

**Hmph**

**> :(**

**...Are you going?**

**I don't like saying goodbye**

**Hello**

**:D**

Jade grins to herself at that. To be honest with herself, she doesn't want to say goodbye either.

**Admit it**

**You are just as much of a dork as me**

**Never**

**Hello**

**Hey**

**I really need to go**

**Hello**

**Hello to you too**

**Hi**

Jade wants to have the last word. Despite always checking she doesn't come off desperate, she's willing to make an exception with Tori Vega. She giggles to herself, her cheeks a pale red.

She leans back, letting her back flop against her mattress, unable to resist the full-blown smile that takes over her lips. Even after the exchange, she feels warm. Complete. No longer empty, no longer like she's missing something. Like the final puzzle piece has been found and snapped into place.

 _Everything's going to be fine,_ she tells herself contently, almost... happily.

And she's willing to promise on that.

* * *

Tori awakes to her _Make it Shine_ alarm. She stops it immediately, throwing her phone by her backpack to claim the shower before her sister does, but her heart stops as she sees where she's at.

Or more of, what her room looks like. With a rather painful inhale, Tori feels her breathing resume normally, her mortified expression gradually softening into curiosity.

Her floor is... spotless.

"Mom?" she calls, her voice cracking from lack of use.

Tori concludes from the pace and sound of the footsteps that the person coming upstairs is her mom. "Yes, honey?" she pokes her head into the room. "Woah. Did you clean your room?"

She feels her blood run cold. "Y-Yeah. I totally did." _Who did it?_

"You never clean your room!" her mother exclaims excitedly, walking in to examine the clean carpets, the vacuum lines still fresh and visible, her books placed in chronological order, her workspace clear and organized.

"Yeah, I know. I just... felt like it." Tori mumbles, running her hand through her bird's nest of hair.

"Tori, are you sure you're okay? You've been acting weird lately." Her expression laced with concern, her mother plops down on the bed next to her, pressing the back of her hand to her daughter's forehead.

"Mom!" Tori groans, pushing her mother's arm away. "Like every other time you asked, I'm okay. I feel fine," she huffs, glancing around to locate everything.

"Okay," Holly stands up and exits the purple room, shutting the door behind her without a word, leaving Tori confused and concerned for her mother's tactics.

 _Right. I gave her my email._ Rushing over to her PearBook, Tori opens it, pulling up her email, slamming her mouse on the table as the spinny wheel (of death) freezes the screen.

"Come on, _come on,_ " she practically begs the screen, her fingers wiggling restlessly.

At last, after what seems like all eternity, her email loads, and she watches impatiently as the animated icon loads.

Three new emails. Two updates on Classroom... and one from Jade.

"Ohmygod," Tori breaths in awe, eyes wide, as she clicks onto the email.

It isn't until her head starts spinning does she realize she's holding her breath. Letting out a slow, heavy exhale, Tori presses her hands against her cheeks, pinches herself, slaps herself lightly on the cheek a couple of times... nope, she's not dreaming.

Before one can say "Zaplook," Tori has the email open, her eyes scanning through the contents excitedly. _Forty-five minutes ago,_ the time reads, and she clicks _reply,_ immediately gushing her mixed emotions into the box.

***

She's felt more than she had felt this month combined. In the past hour, she's smiled practically the entire time, her heart leaping with joy, cheeks swelling as her lips curve upward and stay there for the next hour, the heat she's feeling on her cheeks when Jade makes a particularly crude or embarrassing remark.

Her cheeks are hurting, bad, by the time she signs off with a _hello,_ and there seems to be excess adrenaline coursing through her veins from— she checks the purple clock on her wall— an hour ago. And so she jumps on her bed, chucking her PearPhone across the room (don't worry, it's the XT with the slightly better screen), ignoring the fact that her room was upstairs and anyone on the bottom floor was most likely confused.

It's only then she realizes it's noon and she hasn't done anything, gotten ready, eaten breakfast, heck, she hasn't even brushed her teeth this morning!

The Vega sister rushes to the bathroom to brush her teeth and, you know, wazz, her mind drifting to Jade, Jade, and _Jade_ the entire time.

_She's real. She's really real. She's not a figment of my imagination._

And then she realizes that these thoughts are going through her head because she secretly wants to see Jade in real life and if she looks any less flattering from her point of view. Her toothbrush stops moving, her cheeks glowing a bright red for the millionth time, it seems.

Nonetheless, as she hops downstairs, eyes practically glowing, PearPhone clutched in had to catch any messages Jade might send, three pairs of eyes, all at the kitchen table, already munching away at their lunch.

"You guys ate lunch without me?" Tori asks, but brushes it away, bouncing across the kitchen happily.

"Yeah," Trina laughs. "We called you several times but you weren't answering so we thought you fell back asleep."

"I-y-you called me?" Tori glances at her parents in bewilderment, eyes widening as they both confirm it with a small nod.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," her mom says, amused.

"I-I wasn't sleeping," Tori states. Had she really been so excited to text Jade that she didn't realize her parents had called her _several times_ for lunch?

"What are you then? Deaf?" Trina sniffs, picking at her plate.

"Trina!" The Vega parents scold in unison.

"No... I just got lost in thought." the younger Vega sister mumbles, reaching for her lunch.

"Oh, what were you thinking about?" Holly asks her daughter.

"And why are you so happy?" Trina butts in, her voice sour, as if to say _I don't like to see my sister happy._

"Nothing," She shakes her head, grabbing her lunch and taking a giant bite of it to make sure she doesn't have to talk for the next five minutes.

 _This must be what Supergirl feels like,_ Tori thinks in awe as she stares into her gleaming eyes after she makes an excuse to use the bathroom.

_To be able to feel like nothing can dampen my mood. To be able to feel that nothing, not even rain can keep me from running around the block. To be able to feel all that adrenaline, the emotion, coursing through my blood. To be able to feel like nothing can kill me, and to feel that I'm looking over the rest of the world, struggling as I fly on by to help them._

Tori concludes that she likes feeling like Supergirl.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n credits to [SweetTeaSensei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetTeaSensei/pseuds/SweetTeaSensei) for that one phrase in the subject line of tori's email... uh you know what i mean hehe
> 
> credits to the Jori discord server because uh Toronto Vega... if yk, yk ;)


	6. October 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that Tori's texts are always on the left and Jade's are on the right.

Jade is Tori for the day. Her eyes flit to the plastic stars on the ceiling. One is dangling, hanging by two of its corners.

She stands up on the mattress and plucks the star from the ceiling. It’s cool on the center of her palm, and she closes her fingers around it, cupping her hands and peeking in from the smallest gap between her thumbs.

The soft green glow brings a slight smile to her lips and she hunts for a piece of tape so she can stick it back onto the ceiling.

She lays back down, gazing at the ceiling, the room, the purple rather than the black, and it’s familiar, almost as much as her own room now. She doesn’t freak out when she opens her eyes to Tori’s room. 

To her surprise, she finds herself completely calm, happy even, grinning into the mirror just to see that knee-weakening smile.

She holds the phone in front of her face, chuckling to herself as it unlocks. Tori’s phone is a newer PearPhone model compared to her older one from a few years back, so the whole concept of Face ID is new to her; she still has the one that can only detect her fingerprint.

She doesn’t exactly remember when the face recognition had been developed; she’s never seen it on the news, but then, she doesn’t keep up with this technology stuff.

She shoots Tori a quick text, hoping for some information so she’s not caught off guard when she goes to school. It does startle her, however, when she sees her own name as the contact. She’ll admit… it’s weird. And different.

 _  
_**Hey, looks like I’m you for today**

**Anything I need to know about?**

***

Tori feels the phone buzz in her pocket when she’s brushing her teeth. She spits out the toothpaste and rinses her mouth of the horrid mint flavor before checking who it is.

Her heart skips a beat and she looks on in horror when she sees her own last name on the pop-up notification.

 _Oh right, this is Jade,_ she reminds herself.

 _  
_**How did you even unlock my phone?**

**Face ID**

**Huh**

**Forgot the whole switching bodies means switching faces thing**

**But if you need to know, my password is Avagadro’s number**

**...what?**

**Oh right you’re a freshman**

**Avagadro’s constant is a number proportional to the number of atoms or things in a mole**

**6.022 x 10^23**

**First of all, I knew that**

**Thank you very much**

**But… why?**

**Also it doesn’t work**

**Because I like science**

**Try it without the symbols**

**So 60221023**

**Why are you such a nerd?**

**And how did you get into my phone?**

**Why not?**

**Your password’s in your diary**

**Oh, Jasper just barged in**

**Mhm**

**Asking about my boobs?**

**WHAT**

**NO**

**What else am I supposed to think when he barges in asking me if I’m touching my boobs AGAIN? I’m not that much of a narcissist**

**SHUT UP**

**So you don’t deny it**

**Wow**

**I’m not talking to you anymore**

**Hmph**

**Noooo tell me what I need to do for the day**

**I assume you want to know too**

**Fine**

**I think it’s just review day in Calc since I have a test tmr**

**So do my hw in class thanks a lot**

**Ummmmmm**

**Idk what we’re doing in English**

**Good luck in PE… running time for warm-up just increased**

**Wait what**

**Mr. Folsom does this thing where you run one minute and walk one for warm-up, and you repeat the cycle until you hit five**

**But every few weeks he increases the cycle by thirty seconds until we reach five minutes or jogging**

**So we’re now at 2 minutes**

**WHAT**

**NOOOOO FML**

Jade lets out a long groan, falling face-first into the bed. _The cons of going to a regular public school, I guess. They take PE seriously._

She hears the thunder of the shower faucet turning on in the bathroom. Her face already pressed into the pillow, she groans once more, slamming her head into the pillow when she runs out of air. Now she’s going to have no time in the bathroom.

**Screw your sister**

**She’s in the bathroom**

**Why does she even shower in the morning**

**I don’t get people who shower in the morning**

**Like…??? Why would you go to bed dirty and then clean yourself after you’ve contaminated your bed… and house… and just about everything**

**Good luck**

**Anyway**

**Ummm physics is probably more dumb stuff on the acid based reactions**

**Maybe review precipitation reactions and titrations**

**I think it’s too early to get into thermodynamics or calorimetry??**

**Dude i’m going to die**

**Use your acting skills**

**Pretend like you know what you’re doing**

**That works**

**You are literally in the highest classes a school offers**

**I go to an art school where we have crazy acting teachers**

**Hah**

**Oh and you’re watching a graphic movie in history**

**I suppose you’ll like it**

**Finally**

**Something good for once**

**Yay gore**

**I would die if I had to watch it**

**Also lucky for you my elective is chorus**

**Oh nice**

**What’s your schedule again**

**PE (gym)** **  
****AP Calc BC (114)** **  
****Chorus (509)** **  
****AP US History (406)** **  
****AP Physics (103)** **  
****AP English (407)** **  
****AP Spanish (412)**

 **Memorize it** **  
****They’re all AP’s :P good luck**

**Oh kill me now**

**Teacher names?**

**And screw you >:(**

**Mr. Folsom** **  
****Mrs. Tran** **  
****Mr. Byers** **  
****Mr. Hart** **  
****Miss Reina** **  
****Mrs. French** **  
****Señora Cruz**

**Your English’s teacher’s name is Mrs. French**

**How ironic**

**Ikr**

**Mrs. French is Italian and teaches English**

**Wow**

**I know**

**Hurry I need your schedule**

**Acting - 3A8** **  
****Honors Algebra 2 - 2A3** **  
****Honors English - 1C9** **  
****Music History/Theory - 2H2** **  
****Screenwriting - 1N0** **  
****Honors Biology - 6D3** **  
****R &B Vocals - 3H2**

**Teacherssss**

**Sikowitz (aka the crazy one that doesn’t deserve a “Mr.” before his name)** **  
****Ms. Vasquez** **  
****Ms. Ho** **  
****Mr. Taylor** **  
****Mr. Gradstein** ****  
**Mrs. Copeland** **  
****Ms. Kunkel**

**Yes Psychowitz is crazy**

**Haha good one**

**Oh btw since it’s an art school like all my classes are unpredictable**

**Especially Sikowitz and Gradstein**

**Luckily Sikowitz has no homework and all Gradstein assigns are long ass essays or scripts so you don’t need to worry about that since I have several days**

**Good**

**And watch your language**

**Why should I**

**Hope you don’t mind if I share my writing assignments to your email so I can work on it even when we switch**

**Yeah sure okay**

**What about your normal classes?**

**Most of Taylor’s assignments are to fill out pages in the music theory workbook, or some random writing thing on music history**

**So if any of my classes has a writing assignment create a ZaplookDoc and send it**

**Since we don’t use Zaplook Classroom lol**

**Oh okie**

**English hw is usually a little writing or answering questions on whatever book we’re reading**

**In class is mostly reading and discussion so all is good**

**You’ve already done Bio so it’s gonna be easy for you**

**No fair**

**Hah**

**Y’know what fuck it**

**Just take pics of the hw and send it over**

**I’ll do the same**

**We copy down answers**

**Wait omg you’re a genius**

**And language…**

**Yes I am**

**Took you long enough to figure that out**

**And very full of yourself**

**You have no idea, Vega**

**Bruh my name’s Tori**

**Stop bruh-ing me**

**Never**

**Then you’re forever Vega**

**Ugh**

**You’re insufferable**

**So Annoying**

**Annoyingly endearing :D**

**You love me**

Although Tori would never admit it, Jade is right. And despite bickering over being called her last name, she honestly loves it. It’s different; it makes her feel… she doesn’t know what it makes her feel. But she loves the way it makes a fuzzy warmth settle in her stomach and her heart flutter.

Everyone has always called her Tori, and she finds it refreshing to have something different. 

**> :(**

Tori doesn’t deny it. She can’t bring herself to.

Jade’s heart thuds in her chest, heavy and loud in her ears. Her chest pulsates with every beat, beating along her heart with a contentment she has not felt in a long while. She smiles to herself. It’s not hard when she’s talking to Tori. Nothing is hard when she’s talking to Tori.

Although she would never admit that.

The sound of the water turns off in the bathroom, and Jade reluctantly stands from her bed, her cheeks still twitching with the remnants of a stupid grin. Stupid according to her, at least.

**Hey your idiot sister’s out of the bathroom**

**Gtg**

**That’s why you wake up before her**

**Haha you’re gonna be late if you don’t rush**

**Ugh screw her**

**How do you put up with her?**

**I would’ve committed murder in like kindergarten**

**Idk honestly**

**She loves me though**

**I’m grateful for that**

Jade snorts at that.

**Doesn’t seem like it**

**Any normal person actually acknowledges the fact that every other person has opinions… and needs time in the bathroom**

**She’s… Trina**

**You can hardly consider her a person**

**Lol**

**Okay bye**

**I was going to say good luck at school but I’m the one that needs it… so**

**Btw all my homework’s in my backpack already**

**Same**

**Also… thanks for cleaning my room?**

**What makes you think it was me?**

**It could’ve been anyone**

**That is… a terrifying thought**

**But nah, I know you**

**You did it**

**Thank you**

**Really**

Jade bites her lower lip to keep another full-blown smile because she knows her cheeks will be sore later. _I know you,_ the thespian reads. Normally, anyone who said that would be instantly at the pointy end of Jade’s scissors, probably slammed against a wall.

... _Jade West, get that image out of your head._

No reference intended, of course.

She places a hand on her cheeks, which she swears are on fire at the moment with how on they are burning.

**No problem**

**I like to clean when I’m bored**

**So no matter how many times you take down that poster, it always goes back up**

**IT’S SCARY**

**I love that movie more than my own mother**

**Um okay**

“TORIIII, HURRY UP! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!” shrieks a shrill voice from downstairs. 

Jade heaves a sigh, texting a quick _hello_ , hoping Tori understands exactly what she’s trying to say.

Tori can’t help but smile blindingly when she receives the final text. She taps out the same thing on the small phone keyboard, biting her lip to suppress the grin when she sends it.

**Hi :{)**

She slips the phone in her pocket and heads upstairs to the living room.

Her phone buzzes.

**Vega**

**Do me a favor and don’t smile today**

**Like… frown?**

**Nah**

**Don’t look mad or depressed**

**Just… like you don’t care about anything**

**Also, we have lockers unlike you do so go there before every class to get your textbook because we don’t have them in class**

**Kay kay**

**...you sound like Cat**

**She’s rubbing off on me**

**Of course she is**

**You guys are like two peas in a pod with your annoying cheeriness**

**...I thought we said hi**

It takes a moment for it to register in her brain; she frowns confusedly until it clicks. It also occurs to her that her comment probably hurt Tori more than she’s willing to admit.

**Yeah…**

**Need me to be extra happy today?**

**That’d be great :D**

**I don’t need more people telling me I’m weird**

**Same here**

“Jade?”

Tori jumps, looking up from her phone. “Uh, hi.”

Mrs. West frowns at her, as she seems to do a lot. “Help me set up the table for breakfast, and get off your phone.”

“Um, okay.”

**Gotta go**

**Your mom’s asking me to set the table**

**Good luck today :)**

**Hiiiiii**

**Okay**

**Salutations**

**That gave me Charlotte’s Web vibes**

**HIIIII**

**(my mom can get scary, go!)**

**Haha okie.**

**Hiiii**

Tori slips her phone away, already failing to not grin.

She’s not completely sure how to set the table, so she just puts a plate and napkin in every space.

Her phone buzzes, and she has to fight to keep her expression neutral rather than excitedly check the notification just in case it’s Jade.

_God, Tori. You’re acting like you’re texting someone you have a crush on._

She winces at the implication of that, then futiley attempts to push it out of her mind, ultimately failing when the thoughts invade her mind like a virus..

_Nope, nope, nope. Forbidden thoughts._

Jade stands in front of the mirror, prodding her aching cheek with a finger. She’s never smiled so much, and she’ll admit it makes her feel amazing.

Maybe she doesn’t _not like_ being happy.

Maybe she’s just scared that once the feeling goes away, she’ll never get it back, even if she spends her whole life chasing it.

She runs a hand over Tori’s perfect cheekbones, admiring her reflection in the mirror. 

She stares into those chocolate brown eyes, noting the way her stomach dissolves into butterflies and her chest feels like it’s going to burst with warmth. How the corners of her mouth won’t stop turning up, how her eyes sparkle. How she feels as if her entire face softens as those lips turn upward. How she feels like jumping crazily on her bed, how she feels like nothing can ruin her day.

She holds on to that feeling as tight as she possibly can.

Tori heads off to school in her mom’s car. She keeps a carefully controlled expression on her face, idly scrolling through theSlap.com instead of texting Jade. She’s not sure she can keep a straight face, anyway.

She checks the unread message. It’s from Beck.

 _Movie night tonite at my place? We can do hw after school at my RV._ the text reads.

Tori’s tempted to answer no, but she has a feeling Jade wouldn’t deny her boyfriend. So she sends a neutral, _Sure_ , not bothering to react to his enthusiastic response when it comes.

 _It’s very Jade-like,_ she reasons to herself. It’s not that she doesn’t like him or anything… 

She screenshots Jade’s schedule from PearMessages, and reads it over.

_Sikowitz first. The crazy guy._

She tries to memorize where the classes were the last time they switched.

_Down the hall, right at the water fountain, third door on the left… ah! There!_

She pulls open the door, relieved to find the strange classroom setup. No tables. Just scattered plastic chairs varying in color and a knee-height stage at the whiteboard.

Cat is already there, and so is Beck, so she makes an effort not to hug the redhead when she jumps at her.

“Jadey!”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps as grumpily as she possibly can. “ _Never_ touch me.”

She feels a twinge of guilt when Cat slumps back into her seat, but it evaporates when the girl perks back up at something Jade’s boyfriend says a second later.

Tori has to suppress a squeal of excitement for pulling off a Jade West; no one has even spared her a second glance. But she doubts they would still think she’s Jade if she were to uncharacteristically squeal in the middle of class. So she decides against it.

Jade doesn’t even complain in the car ride to school. Even Trina’s ear-shattering singing does nothing to dampen her good mood.

When she gets out, she even waves goodbye to the older Vega sister and begins her trek to Physical Education, once again barely on time because she had failed to get the bathroom first.

She’s grateful that the classroom numbers are based on what building they are in, so she doesn’t have to search for her classes, unlike Hollywood Arts’s ridiculously random combinations of letters and numbers every classroom is assigned.

She meets Lola and Zoey in the locker room.

“Are you weird again?”

She frowns. _How do they tell?_ “What do you mean?”

Zoey shrugs, “Just that every few days you act weird, like you’re a completely different person.

Jade almost laughs at how close her statement is. “No... I’m pretty sure I’m myself today.”

“Good. You get mean when you’re weird, and honestly, it’s terrifying.”

“Yeah, sure,” she smiles at them, and it’s a lot less forced and awkward because all she has to do is think about the text exchange between her and Tori this morning.

She changes, already a little more comfortable with the idea of stripping down to underwear and putting on clothes in the presence of a lot of other girls. She still turns her eyes to the ceiling, however. She tells herself that Tori is, in fact, a real person, and the body isn’t hers to look at.

Not without permission, anyway.

Not that she was going to ask. 

(Because that would be awkward as fuckkkkk.)

Jade finds that P.E. isn’t too hard when she tells herself that everyone is suffering through as much pain as she is… and not the good type of pain. It brings her a little solace that other people are suffering alongside her. 

She’s just a bit sadistic in that way.

Tori does her best to act like Jade. After all, she _is_ sitting in an acting class. Her heart sinks a little when Sikowitz calls her up for an exercise called Alphabet Improv. She hesitates a bit; she’s not completely sure what it is.

After both Beck and Andre go, she infers that the goal of this exercise is to improvise a line that starts with the next letter of the alphabet.

“Apples are falling out of my butt.”

She makes a disgusted face at him. It’s both a genuine reaction and her attempt to be Jade, but she finds that it’s becoming easier to act like her.

“Bring the apples so we can enjoy the fresh fruit from Beck’s butt.”

“Can we even eat them?” Cat wonders.

“Don’t think so,” a student named Robbie shrugs. Tori eyes him. He’s not part of their friend group, but he got called in class more than the quiet students who sit in the back. She notices he looks a little dull, sad almost.

“Even _I_ wouldn’t go there,” she continues.

As the game continues, she finds that she’s a natural at this.

_Another reason to regret not auditioning._

She ultimately loses to Beck when it’s just the two of them remaining, bickering back and forth, which for some reason, she finds particularly enjoyable, congratulating herself when she steps off the stage. She has to suppress another squeal of delight.

***

It turns out Jade has to play this game that’s more of a mental game rather than a physical one, called _Enchanted Forest,_ during P.E. Sixteen carpet squares are laid out in a four-by-four grid, and the goal is to step on all of them in the correct order without speaking. The single person that is allowed to talk holds the answer key and can only say the words “thank you” when the wrong tile is stepped on.

It brings out the competitive side in the thespian. She immediately refuses when they offer her the role of map reader because she knows for a fact she will be useful in terms of figuring out the solution. She has to refrain from snapping at people and blowing up, however, when then ignore her insistent pointing.

The group cheers when they figure out the pattern, with Jade’s help, of course. She joins in because, hell, she’s Tori Vega, so why not?

The two girls text in between classes, and if they must admit, it’s the only thing keeping them sane. The unfamiliar classes and faces are tough to sit through and it takes a lot of bathroom breaks and passing period explanations and texts of encouragement to get through the day.

Tori doesn’t mention Beck’s date request to Jade.

She’s not able to distinguish whether the envy she feels is for her or for… him.

So she heads over to his trailer after school with her backpack. When Beck goes to the bathroom, she discreetly takes photos of all the paper assignments and creates ZaplookDocs to send to her own email. 

She tries to act normal when the long-haired actor returns; it’s hard to not flinch away when he presses a kiss to her cheek.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

She almost gags at the pet name. She bites the inside of her cheek instead, opting not to, because, well… that wouldn’t have turned out well.

“Nothing,” she answers in a monotone. It’s not intentional, and she allows herself a small grin of victory when he leaves her alone without further question.

Tori has to dig in her backpack for her black PearPhone when she gets a series of texts from Jade, her entire bag vibrating along with the phone. She finds a sheet of paper, a little wrinkled, but upon further inspection, it’s a handwritten list of… Rules For Being Tori Vega?

She almost lets out a sharp laugh at the sight of it, and reads it, discreetly turning her body from Beck so he’s unable to see what she’s looking at.

_Rules for Being Tori Vega?_

  * _Be super nice to everyone… ugh_


  * Smile… all the time… ugh


  * Drink super sweet coffee bc Lola steals it and will get suspicious


  * GET UP RIGHT AWAY TO GET THE BATHROOM BEFORE TRINA


  * Password for literally anything is Avagardro’s constant without the non-numbers because Tori’s a dork and a nerd



The list went on, but right then, Beck was peering at her, “What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” she shoved it back into the backpack. Thankfully, he didn’t push her.

She finally pulls out the phone to see that it is any handwritten worksheets she had probably received from school.

**How was school?**

**Any casualties?**

Jade snorts at that.

**I’m not that scary**

**Besides your face has a tendency to attract people rather than scare them away**

She realizes the implication too late, and just groans into the crook of her elbow, eyes fixed on the three blinking dots that appear when Tori begins to type.

**Aw**

**You think I’m prettyyyy**

**Maybe**

She doesn’t bring herself to deny it. 

**:))))))**

At least she finds the reactions adorable. 

_Is it weird to be calling someone three years older adorable?_

The thought flies right out the window when she receives a text. From… Danny?

**Hey Vega**

**Who’s Danny**

**Oh Daniel**

**What’d he say?**

**“Date 2morrow nite?”**

**Wha**

**I quoted him exactly**

**Why do you have this guy’s number anyway?**

**If he can’t bother to spell out his words?**

**You’re just wazzed off because you’re a writer lol**

**And he’s kinda cute ngl**

**Can you say yes?**

**Maybe**

Jade doesn’t understand why she’s so wazzed off about this boy asking Tori out over text. Something boils in her gut when she calls him cute, and she digs her nails into her palm to avoid chucking the phone across the room. She doesn’t need to feel it again to know it’s envy.

 _Maybe I just want someone to actually care and ask me out… but I have Beck. Maybe it’s just that I asked him out rather than the other way around… it must be nice to have someone make the first move and do all the work,_ she reasons with herself.

**Jade!**

**Ugh fine**

**Only because I want to**

**Thankuuuu**

**No prob**

**Now do your hw and I’ll do mine**

**What’s Gradstein hw?**

**Some essay on the importance of music in movies idk**

**Bleh**

**I’ve done so many “importance of music” essays already**

**What’s with that anyway**

**Idk**

**Beck is getting suspicious**

**Gtg**

**Wait**

**You’re at Beck’s?**

**Yeah his RV**

**Just doing hw**

**And… nothing else if you’re wondering**

**Gag**

**I was not wondering**

**How can you say that?**

**He’s your bf**

**I do not want to visualize him doing things with another girl who is not me but he believes is me thank you very much**

**That’s fair**

**Now hi**

**Good day**

Jade throws Tori’s phone. It lands on the carpet with a soft _fwump_ and she just leaves it there, falling face first onto the mattress. It knocks the air from her lungs, and she just lays there, sucking and blowing air through the mattress and wondering how long it’ll take for her to suffocate.

Tori zooms in on the pictures she’s sent pulling out a blank sheet of lined paper to write her calculus answers. She notices that the multiple choice questions as well as the odd questions are complete; presumably done with the answer key in the back of the textbook. She bites back a bark of laughter at Jade’s resourcefulness.

About an hour in, Tori notices that Beck’s head is considerably closer to hers, and she looks up, bewildered.

“What?”

“Why is that doc writing itself?”

She looks at the PearBook screen, biting back a curse when she sees it’s pulled open to the document where Jade is currently working on the essay.

“It’s not.”

“Who’s… Tori Vega?”

 _Me,_ she wants to respond, but clearly, that would’ve just confused him. “Oh, just a partner for the essay.”

“Jade… did you threaten her to do it for you?”

She scoffs, “Of course not.”

She slams the screen shut, but not before Beck manages to read a little bit of the work. “She writes like you.”

“I know,” she answers smoothly, “That’s why I picked her as a partner.”

His eyebrows raise disbelievingly and she panics for a second, thinking that Jade probably prefers to work alone, or maybe that Gradstein doesn’t do partner projects, but he just returned to his homework, not even bothering to question her any further.

Jade lifts her head up after about a minute, gulping the air like water when she finally decides that it’s better if she doesn’t suffocate. This is Tori’s body after all. She swipes through screenshots of her homework that she receives from PearMessages, and takes out some lined paper, writing down the answers to the various questions. When finished, she sends a picture back to Tori.

The homework slowly trickles in, starting with calculus and drifting through Physics. She writes down Tori’s answers and calculations, even adjusting her handwriting, so it’s a closer match to the half-Latina’s.

She flops back in Tori’s bed, feeling an intense urge to just… write. It hits her out of nowhere, and her fingers are itching to pour something out on the keyboard so she texts the other girl.

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**WHAT**

**WHAT DO YOU WANT**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**STAHP**

**Hi can you go onto the doc titled ‘idk what to title this’ and send it to your zmail**

**Don’t read it**

**Or what**

**Or I will pop your head like a zit**

**Graphic**

**> :)**

**What’s the magic word**

**Send me my document now?**

**Ugh**

**Fuck you**

**VEGA**

**FUDGE I MEANY FUSGE**

**DID YOU JUST-**

**AUTO CARROT**

**WHAT**

**ACK**

**ALTO CORRXT**

**SCREW**

**AUTOCORRECT**

**Why is your autocorrxct so screwed up**

***autocarrot**

****AUTOCORRECT**

**Ahahahahahahah**

**Having fun there?**

**:((**

**Your phone made me cuss**

**I love my phone**

**I hate youuuu**

**No you don’t**

She doesn’t even try to argue against that. Not that she can, anyway.

**Ugh**

**I hate your phone**

**What have you done to it**

**I probably traumatized it**

**Honestly**

**ALSO JUST SEND ME THE FUCKING DOCUMENT**

**Don’t you dare teach my phone how to cuss**

**Shit**

**Fuck**

**Ass**

**Bitch**

**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO**

**I will literally fail your classes**

**You wouldn’t**

**Probably not…**

**I sent it**

**There**

**Ya happy?**

**Yeah sure**

**What do you say?**

**Get off my phone and do your homework?**

**Ugh screw you**

**I know you want to ;)**

**NOT LIKE THAT**

**WHY ARE YOU LIKE THID**

**WHY ATE YOU DOING THIA TO MEEREEE**

**Wha**

**Adlfjdk caps lock doesn’t have auto carrot**

**Why does it keep autocorrecting to auto carrot**

**That took me four tries to type**

**Because idk maybe i just type carrot a lot**

**But really copy my hw and do yours**

**I need to change since I feel disgusting and there’s no way I’m showering**

**Hah okay**

**Hai**

**Hasta luego**

**Is that the right term**

**Do you even speak Spanish?**

**Yes and yes**

**Good eveninggggg**

**You too**

Tori doesn’t realize she’s grinning like a maniac until Beck peeks over her shoulder.

“Whatcha smiling at?”

She rips the phone screen out of his line of sight, frantically pressing the power button until the screen goes black, “Nothing.” The way her lips twitch give her away, however.

“C’mon, I just wanna see,” he pouts and Tori just wonders in amusement if this is his attempt to be cute.

“None of your business,” she tries the monotone, indifferent, I-don’t-care voice, and it seems to work because he just sits on his couch.

“Wanna watch a movie, then?” he waves the remote control.

“Yeah, sure.” Tori reluctantly puts down the phone and settles down on the soft cushions.

She’s completely aware of the way Beck’s hand begins to snake around her waist as they scroll through Netflicks, looking for something to watch.

By the time whatever movie they’re watching ends, Tori finds herself laying down, her back pressed up against Beck’s chest, his arm around her waist.

She doesn’t remember the entire movie because she had been too busy thinking about Jade, and how she would’ve felt in this situation. Would she have liked it? Would she have pushed Beck away the minute his hand touched her waist? What would it feel like if she were the one spooning Tori instead of Beck?

She squeezes her eyes shut. _Nope, can’t go there. Not allowed._

But the longer she lays there, in Beck’s arms, she can’t help but complain internally. Despite the fact they physically fit together pretty decently, she sort of hates the way his chest is so hard against her back, or his knees pressed into the back of hers, how the stitches in the denim of his jeans is a little scratchy and ticklish. How his hand is warm, too warm, almost sweaty on her hip a little too tense and awkwardly.

How she just wants to squirm and sit up, but his arm around her prohibits her from moving much.

She daydreams through another movie. She doesn’t even bother trying to defend her brain from the Jade-related thoughts because it’s futile; they’ve completely taken her over, and she just can’t help but wonder what it would be like to lay there, with Jade holding her from behind. Maybe how her knees would fit securely in the bend of her legs, maybe how the slope of her butt will be pressed up against her… you know, how she might feel Jade’s coffee breath tickling her neck, maybe even the cushion of her breasts against her spine, how it would feel to have her lips on her cheek, her hairline, her throat, her lips… 

And she pulls herself forcefully, maybe a little too forcefully out of Beck’s grasp, tumbling onto the rug that is laid on the floor.

“Jade?”

“I, er, need to use the bathroom,” she tells him, breathing to a beat in her head.

“You could’ve just said something.”

“Eh.” The hand behind her back clenches into a tight, trembling fist as she fights to keep her cool with _those_ pictures in her head, tainting her thoughts and contaminating everything like an oil slick.

So she locks herself in the small bathroom compartment of the RV, pressing her forehead against the wall; she cannot bear to look at Jade in the mirror right now, but as usual, she finds her gaze being drawn to it.

She looks into those beautiful ocean eyes. She never gets enough of them. In them, she recognizes the swirling storm, the frothing foam of the waves, the chaos and the hurricane that Jade is, but she sees herself in the center. The soft glow, the light, the sun, the warmth. She sees herself in Jade’s eyes, because well, it is technically herself.

But everywhere else she looks, she sees Jade, Jade, Jade, Jade, _Jade_ , and it overwhelms her. She smells _Jade_ in her clothes and tastes _Jade_ in the lip gloss that adheres itself to the lid of the coffee cup. She sees a girl, a stunning, startling, gorgeous cold beauty only tainted by the hint of _Tori_ in her eyes.

A particularly loud noise from the movie outside startles her back into reality, where she’s just Tori, trapped in Jade’s body, living Jade’s life as her own. She flushes the toilet and turns on the sink to avoid arousing suspicion and opens the door, in which she’s facing the world again, after her single moment of relieving solitude.

Well, not the whole world. Just Beck. Who might as well be Jade’s whole world.

She’s dating him… right?

***

Jade finds herself gazing in the mirror for a moment too long when she changes. Again. 

Those molten chocolate eyes, dark as syrup, but as light as honey. They move, they shift, they flow thickly, shifting from emotion to emotion, but one thing stays the same throughout. It’s so clearly… Jade. Despite the startling difference in eye color, she sees herself. Cold, chaotic, hidden, hidden in a rock-hard encasing that has a crack in it. Something tells her Tori’s forced her way through. Oddly enough, she doesn’t mind.

In her body, she sees Tori. Tori Vega and just Tori and maybe just Vega and Victoria Vega, but it’s most importantly… _Tori_. The girl whose body she’s trapped in every few days. The cute, beautiful, adorable, alluring, irresistible girl she sees in the reflection that may as well be the fire to her ice, the sun to her moon, the light to her darkness. Polar opposites. United as one… 

Jade hates it, if she has to be honest. 

She hates the way she sees _Tori_ every time she looks at herself in the mirror, she hates the way she smells _Tori_ in the shampoo left lingering in her hair and the scent of her clothes, she hates how she hears _Tori_ every time she speaks or giggles, so unlike her real self, she hates how she tastes _Tori_ every time she drags that toothbrush through her mouth, complete with the sweet toothpaste Tori uses because she hates mint.

She notices how she can feel _Tori_ in every single movement and thought and action, how it’s influencing her behaviors and decisions. And she hates it, because it makes her feel… _something._

It’s a completely novel feeling to both of them. It’s more than the flutter of butterflies in their stomachs and the increased heart rate, or even the way they want… more.

It’s the way everything falls _apart_ when the other isn’t there, how everything falls _away_ when the other is, how their thoughts are consumed by the other girl despite any efforts to think of _anything else_ . It’s how the butterflies have grown into birds, how the simple accelerated heart rate has converted into the stuttering of the very organ that’s supposed to beat regularly and steadily and _constantly_.

But somehow, the presence of the other girl just throws that off, and it becomes a jumbled mess of beats, some skipped, some rushed through, some dragged out. Their hearts jump into their throat and drop into their stomachs and sometimes lower, and they hammer at their chest like they’re trying to break out of the prison that the rib cage seems to be. 

It absolutely terrifies them.

How the heart is the single organ that’s supposed to be consistent.

_Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump._

Maybe it speeds up a little when they run. Maybe it slows down a bit when they sleep.

It’s honestly terrifying how simply seeing the other girl in the mirror comes and ruins that. Like how when you simply square x, it jumps from a straight line to a symmetrical curve, how when you cube it, it snaps into this squiggle. It’s awkward and sudden, and unable to get used to no matter how many times they flick their gaze to the mirror.

It’s like their hearts trip and stumble and stutter and fall. It’s squeezed and seized and dropped and caught, and the entire time Jade idly wonders if Tori’s heart ever does that.

Tori wonders if Jade’s heart ever jumps in time to hers. 

_Maybe,_ Mitch smiles fondly as he watches the two of them from afar, _Maybe._


	7. October 22nd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reminder that Tori is on the left and Jade is on the right.

It turns out they don’t switch back. Jade doesn’t even bother to rush to the bathroom to check; she’s a hundred percent sure she’s in Tori’s room. She sends a frantic text to the half-Latina.

**VEGA**

**I’M YOU AGAIN**

**YOU HAVE A DATE WITH DANNY TONIGHT**

**WHAT**

**OH**

**OH GOD**

**Okay calm down**

**Uhh**

**Is there any way we can switch back?**

**No I don’t think so**

**Umm**

**We switch in the middle of the night**

**I suspect it’s triggered by sleep because there’s no way we could switch when we’re awake… I think**

**But we don’t exactly have time to sleep and change back**

**If it even works**

**Can I just say you’re not available?**

**Like tell him I got sick**

**NO**

**Uh… can you please go?**

**Why**

**Because this might be my only chance with him**

**Please 🥺**

**No**

**I’m begging you**

Jade stiffens at the feeling that curls through her stomach. While wanting to strangle this Danny guy for asking Tori out, she feels like she can’t say no. 

**...I really don’t want to**

**:(**

Jade tells herself it’s because she potentially will have to hold hands and maybe even kiss him whenever she’s Tori, and it might as well be cheating on Beck.

**Please**

**Ugh okay okay fine**

**Only because I want to**

**Yay!**

**Thank youuu**

**You are very much appreciated :)**

**You owe me Vega**

**I know I know**

Despite the fact she’s going to have to go on a date with some boy as Tori, Jade finds herself smiling to herself.

**No go get dat bathroom before Trina does**

**Pfft she’s not even awake yet**

**Jade**

**The time it takes for her to wake up and get into the shower is less than you think. She literally wakes up and she’s all tired and the next millisecond she’s showering.**

**Ugh fine**

**Bye**

**> :((**

**I meant hi**

**:))**

**K hello**

It’s practically a rule at this point for Jade to have the last word. She’s not sure why; she just feels like it’s right. Scrambling to find something dark, she rushes into the bathroom, remembering to lock both doors.

***

The school day passes in the blink of an eye, Jade texting Tori in between her classes and at lunch, to the point her friends are curious as to why her face has been glued to the phone.

“It’s important,” Tori insists, brushing the comments away and dismissing the topic after more questions are asked.

**Vega**

**Vega**

**Vega**

**VEGA**

**TORI**

**WHAT OMG**

**Aww you called me Tori**

**I only did it because you would answer faster**

**THE DATE IS IN AN HOUR WHAT DO I DO**

**Be nice**

**...**

**Idk laugh a lot, just unleash your inner me**

**I-**

**How did you know I had an inner Vega**

**Oh come on I have an inner you**

**Well this is awkward**

**Uh don’t wear dark colors**

**Why**

**Because he’ll question my choice of clothing on a date**

**Ugh fine**

**But only because i want to**

**Stop using that excuse**

**But it’s true**

**Nah you just don’t like to admit it**

**Admit what**

**That you don’t like to follow orders but you’re completely fine with listening to me**

**No**

**Yes**

**No ❤️**

**You’ve been on stan Twitflash too much**

**What’s that never heard of it**

**Yeah right**

**Shut up**

**Nah**

**Go get yourself mentally ready**

**Be nice to him**

**Do what I would do**

**Unleash your inner Tori Vega**

**Yeah, yeah**

**And stfu with the “unleash your blah blah blah”**

**GO**

**Hello**

**Hi**

As usual, Jade feels the now-normal tug at the corners of her lips, pulling her into a smile. _As much as I would like to shower before a date… no._

Instead, she opts to wash her face, splashing it with extra cold water to wake her up. It helps, a bit, anyway, and so she pulls a few strands of hair and pins it back, knowing it accentuates Tori’s perfect cheekbones better.

Running a hand through the colorful pieces of clothing, Jade decides on a dull purple flowy top with some floral patterns on it. _This may or may not be the first time I’ve worn something with flowers on it,_ she thinks, scrunching her nose.

And as much as she tries to stare at the ceiling as she’s changing, her eyes drift anyway, and with the fact that there’s a full-on mirror stuck to Tori’s wall, it’s too late before her eyes are running up and down her perfect legs and arms, the curve of her hips, the expanse of bronze skin in front of her, the way her waist goes inward ever so slightly, and out again at the curve of her breasts- _oh my God, I need to stop._

That’s when she notices her mouth is dry. Something coalesces low in her stomach, and her breathing speeds up, just a bit. Her heart is loud in her ears, and she can hardly hear anything over the blood rushing through her ears, and… other places.

 _I- what is going on?_

So Jade slaps herself. Well, Tori’s body, but herself. It’s softer than she’s used to, not wanting to hurt Tori’s perfect face, but it’s enough for her to turn around and pull on the top with some tight jeans that hug her legs rather uncomfortably.

With one final check, making sure everything is perfect, Jade wonders why she’s spent this much time preparing for a date that isn’t hers. It’s not like she hasn’t dated anyone besides Beck in the past year, and they never really went out.

She does what Tori would do— she’s early, waiting at the front of her house for Danny to pick her up.

She drums her fingers against the fabric on her thigh impatiently, humming a song she forgot the name to.

 _Why am I so nervous?_ Jade swallowed, fumbling with the bottom of her top mindlessly. _It’s not like I’m the one dating him._

Danny’s late. She knows when she receives a text from him. _Sry Im late Ill be there in 5._

Grimacing at the improper grammar, she texts back a very Tori-like, _That’s okay, I need to get ready,_ she bluffs.

 _How bout Ill be there in 10_ , he sends back, and Jade can’t help but roll her eyes. But she has more time to text Tori, so that’s okay with her.

 _Sure!_ She makes sure to add that exclamation mark in there, before pulling Tori’s contact up.

**Pfft he’s late**

**Kinda expected it**

**Ugh give him a chance**

**Nah**

**A guy should never be late on his first date with someone**

**That just ruins everything**

**I’m fine with it**

Jade scoffed, shaking her head.

**Of course you are**

**I texted that it’s okay**

**Kk**

**What are you wearing?**

**Your white sundress… i think it might be purple?**

**It’s comfortable**

**And jean shorts under**

**It’s not comfortable**

**Nice**

**Nice that i’m not comfortable or nice as in what i’m wearing is nice**

**Both**

**But mainly the second one**

**It’s a good option**

**I can’t believe you didn’t let me cancel this**

**Why?**

**You really wanted me to go out with some dude I’ve never talked to**

**Well he might think I don’t like him if I cancel**

**Then make an excuse**

**Then he’ll really think I’m bailing on him**

**Ugh**

**You’re right**

Did she just admit that Tori was right? Ugh, being her was rubbing off on her.

**Where’s the date**

**Karaoke Dokie**

**That’s a horrible name**

**Shuddup**

**It’s cheesy**

**Like you**

**Shuddup**

**You already said that**

**Shuddup**

**Stop**

**Fine**

**Where is it?**

**Calabasas**

**Oh hey I live pretty close to there**

**I don’t think I’ve been there before tho**

**Eh it’s pretty old**

**Oof he’s here**

**I’ll try not to kill him**

**Meanie**

**Hi**

**Hi**

Jade sighs, adjusting her outfit. It’s a simple light sundress that hangs just above her knees, exposing her bronze shoulders that she muses that they might as well be the night sky compared to the porcelain skin on her own body. It’s a very innocent, pure look, and she finds herself smiling to see if it’ll complete the outfit.

It does. 

She shoves her phone into a small purse she digs out of the closet, along with a couple of necessities: a light perfume she finds in the bathroom, a little mascara, and (just in case) a few pads and tampons.

On her way out of her room, she catches sight of a paper on the floor. It must’ve slipped out of a folder or a notebook, so she picks it up to shove it back, but she catches sight of the words. It’s a rule list. A lot like the one she had written for herself. She has to bite back a smile when she reads it.

_Rules for Being Jade West:_

  * _No smiling… just look like you don’t care about anything_ _  
_
  * _Only black coffee with two sugars because friends get weird_


  * Stop being nice


  * Don’t talk to people ESPECIALLY Sinjin if he tries to hit on you


  * Scare people… 


  * Passcode is her name… in numbers so 5233 (because she’s a narcissist)



She waves goodbye to Mrs. Vega, who doesn’t respond; Jade suspects she doesn’t even realize she’s heading out the door. When she spots the car parked at the front of her house, she puts on a smile and heads over.

She opens the door by herself.

“Hey!”

She eyes him warily, barely remembering to turn off her intimidating glare. _He’s a decent looking guy,_ she sucks her teeth as she analyzes him, _Cleans up well. Late, and didn’t open the door for me._

“Hey,” she gives a little awkward wave she feels will match Tori’s innocent personality and the outfit. 

“You look cute.”

She barely refrains from cringing at that, instead opting to answer politely, “You clean up nice as well.”

“Thank you.”

He waits for her to strap in the seatbelt patiently, and so she does, gritting her teeth when the car lurches forward without warning.

 _Channel my inner Tori, got it._ _Be nice. Don’t snap. Act like you’re trying to impress your crush._

A song plays softly over the radio. It’s energetic and laced with a loud kick that thumps every quarter note, but underneath, the sorrowful lyrics make her heart ache.

“Hey, what is this song?”

“The One That Got Away,” Daniel murmurs quietly, looking at her oddly as if he couldn’t believe she had never heard the song before. “Katy Perry.”

_In another life, I would be your girl…_

The grip on her heart tightens, and so does her grip on the seatbelt.

When she carries the polite conversation all the way to Calabasas for over half an hour, she vaguely wonders who exactly is she trying to impress.

_My crush…_

And who is that?

_Supposedly this boy…_

Jade blushes lightly at the thoughts, at the exact moment Daniel takes her hand. He notices it and smiles to himself. “Ready?”

_This guy…_

“Yeah,” she gives a fake smile of her own, chanting two words in her brain like a mantra.

_For Tori. For Tori. For Tori._

They walk in, hand-in-hand, and Jade marvels at the cozy place, adjusting her dress as they sit down at a small circular table.

“So what is this place?” the thespian lightens her tone, looking him in the eye almost flirtingly.

She slaps herself for doing so, but _I have to_ , she tells herself. _For Tori._

“Karaoke Dokie is actually an under 21 karaoke bar, so they don’t have alcohol, but they do have amazing food. And pretty good karaoke, if I do say so myself.”

She nods along to that, “Hmm, sounds nice.” She wonders what would happen if she decides to sing.

She considers the possibility. She’s not completely sure if Tori can even sing, so her voice would take some getting used to. But she has the skill to manipulate it… she grins to herself.

“How would you feel if I sing?” she blurts out, tucking a loose brunette curl behind her ear.

He raises his eyebrows, impressed. _He’s probably wondering what happened to the awkward mess of Tori he saw before._ “That’d be cool.”

She just gives him a simper, tipping her head, and looks as adorable as she can manage.

It seems to work, but Jade snaps her head to the side when the waitress comes. She’s about to snap to go get an ugly waiter, but it’s clear Daniel only has eyes for her, so she smiles and orders something light. She has to hide a wince when he orders the buffalo wings.

 _Great thing to order on a first date,_ she rolls her eyes internally.

It’s obvious the waitress is trying to get Daniel to look at her, but he never does. 

It leaves a vile taste in Jade’s mouth despite the attention she’s getting.

Her phone buzzes, and she sneaks a look at it discreetly, lighting up just as the screen does when she sees her own name pop up on the screen.

She excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and he just nods, so she scurries off, her phone already out before the bathroom door shuts behind her.

**How’s it going?**

_Terrible,_ she wants to say, but to be honest, it isn’t _that_ bad of a first date.

**Not bad, actually**

**He took me to an under 21 karaoke bar**

**Can I sing lol**

**Don’t you major in singing haha**

**That’d be great…**

**But what if he asks me to sing one day and I can’t?**

**Well then**

**Better start taking voice lessons**

**I trust that you can carry a tune, at least**

**He says the singers that sing there are decent but they all suck**

**That’s mean!**

**No but really**

**Like there’s these two girls who just went… apparently they’re the reigning champions**

**Hayley and Tara or something**

**They can hardly carry a tune**

**Mhm**

**Then go beat them haha**

**Right on it ;)**

**I didn’t mean physically if that’s what you got**

**Dork**

**Of course not**

**I’m going nowww**

**Mkay**

**Hi**

**Hey**

Her phone is slipped into her purse, and she adjusts her hair in the mirror. She pauses for a moment, promising the girl in the mirror that she’s doing this for her.

_Tori…_

She can’t bring herself to think of the three words she wants to say, the three words that are always precariously balanced at the tip of the protagonist’s tongue in a love story, the three words that mean so much but is so often overused.

So she doesn’t.

She heads out, just as the emcee is asking for volunteers. With a deep breath to calm her still-racing heart, she raises her hand and saunters over.

“Alright! We have a volunteer. What’s your name?”

 _Jade West,_ she almost blurts instinctively but reminds herself that she’s Tori for the day.

“Vega,” she says at last, and she feels strange to be saying that name out loud, “I’m Tori Vega.”

“What do you want to sing tonight?”

She eyes the screen that will display the lyrics, eyes Daniel, and makes a decision. “The One That Got Away, Katy Perry.”

She sees the curious look on her date’s face and just gives him a grin. 

“Acoustic or regular?”

“Acoustic.”

The audience quiets at that, but just barely.

And the music starts. She vaguely recognizes the starting chords, and she clears her throat quietly as she picks up the mic.

When she arrives at the chorus for the first time, she wonders what it would be like to have Tori backing her with that voice that is spilling from her throat, the soothing, mezzo-soprano voice carrying the notes delicately and precisely. It’s not as low as her own range, but she finds it easier to belt the higher notes.

Halfway through the song, she realizes the audience is completely silent, just watching her with a look of transfixed awe.

It leaves a bitter taste in the back of her mouth, honestly.

But she gazes at him anyway, thinking about the truth in the lyrics.

_In another life, I would be your girl. We’d keep all our promises, be us against the world. In another life, I would make you stay. So I don’t have to say you were the one that got away._

She wonders to herself who exactly she’s singing that to.

_Daniel… I can’t have him because he’s Tori’s… I’m not really his girl… any promises I make are invalid because they’re not made by Tori._

It’s terrible reasoning, and she knows it, but she keeps telling herself that.

_In another life…_

She finishes the song with a small curtsy and a little smile that always completes Tori Vega and steps off the stage.

The crowd roars for her despite being pretty small, and she feels a faint blush stain her cheeks. At Hollywood Arts, her own voice is always praised for its sultry, smooth sound, but this voice, _Tori’s voice_ , is so much more lyrical, so much lighter when using the right technique.

“Wow,” Daniel kisses her cheek when she sits down.

(Jade has to fight not to flinch away from his rough lips that peck her cheek too harshly.)

“That was amazing,” he gushes, and she gives him that little smile again.

They invite the owner of the place to announce the winner, and she absolutely knows it’s going to be her when… 

“Hayley and Tara!”

The crowd falls silent, and a low “Boo,” begins to rise from the audience until it fills the bar. The clamor increases in volume until the blonde girl, Tara, shouts.

“What do you want?”

She cringes when Daniel stands up, “I think we should put this to a vote. There’s no way this was decided fairly.”

“What?” Hayley looks absolutely wazzed off and it absolutely delights her.

The owner hesitates, but the loud cheer that comes from the people only confirms they want it.

“We can’t-”

“You’re biased!” a person shouts from the crowd, “There’s absolutely no way these two were better!”

Everyone yells in agreement. Jade slumps in her chair, acting timid, but she’s smirking.

After about two minutes of arguing, the man finally agrees.

“But Dad-” Hayley begins.

Everyone falls silent.

“Oh my God, he’s her father,” Jade scoffs, and everyone looks on disapprovingly.

“Fine, fine, fine!” The man barks, “We’re putting this to a vote! Who thinks Hayley and Tara win?”

It’s so silent they could’ve heard a pin drop. The smirk on her face widens when the resigned man points to her and the crowd bursts into thunderous applause. 

“Tori Vega wins,” the guys sighs, and Jade actually feels bad for him… and the other two girls. _My inner Tori is getting to me, blegh._

The two girls storm out, and she’s met with a high five from her date.

“That was absolutely amazing!” 

She lets herself giggle in response to that. It’s a little shrill, but still cute, and she flushes at the thought of hearing that in her own life.

“Thanks.”

They finish up the meal with substantial conversation, and she winces when Daniel begins to pick at the wings with his fingers.

_Big mistake, big mistake._

“I’m going to go wash my hands,” she smiles at him, and he just mumbles something incoherent through his face full of buffalo wing.

She heads over to the restroom with a skip in her step, and pulls out the phone once more.

**I won for you**

Jade winces at how blunt and cheesy it sounds, but it’s too late to take it back.

**Yayyyy**

**Congrats!**

**Love youuuu**

Her heart stops. _What?_ She rapidly inhales through her nostrils, her eyes fixed on the two words, written so casually, so normally, as if they fit there like a puzzle piece. It sounded so _natural_ , and although Jade knows that she didn’t mean it in _that_ way.

So she sends it back, just to see Tori’s reaction. She’s blushing wildly, her cheeks burning in the gentle air conditioning of the bathroom. 

**Love you too**

**:)**

****

**:)** ****

**Thanks for doing this, really**

**I really owe you now**

**Yeah, you do**

The moment is broken when the two return to their usual familiar banter that has Jade grinning like an idiot. Her heart still beats wildly in her chest, and even more so when she meets her own gaze in the mirror, that smile always the single piece of Tori that makes her knees weaken.

She returns to her seat and finds that the restaurant is closing already, at 10 pm. She figures that it’s because most, if not all of the people there are students.

He holds her hand to the car, and this time he opens the door for her.

She murmurs a small grunt of appreciation and lets her head droop against the seat.

The car ride home is a little quieter than the ride there, the only sounds left the out-loud instructions of the automated GPS.

The car slows to a stop at the top of the hill in front of Tori’s house, and Jade gives Daniel a smile.

“I had fun tonight,” she tells him, because she did. Although it wasn’t all because of him… 

“I did too,” he bites his lip, and again, she has to fight not to cringe from the obvious attempt to look cool. 

He leans forward, and she has the sudden urge to roll her eyes. _Really? Kissing on the first date._

At the last moment, she turns her head, so his lips just graze her cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispers, climbing out of the car.

He looks a little disappointed in himself, so she tells him to text her when he has the chance.

She walks back into her house with a bright smile on her face. She’s kind of glad he doesn’t offer to walk her to the front door.

As usual, it’s unlocked, and she’s met by her mom, who does a double-take at the giddy look on her daughter’s face.

“I take it you had a fun time?”

“Yeah,” she responds, with an uncharacteristic grin, “I did.”

* * *

Tori wakes up in her own body the next day, for some reason, buzzing and giddy.

She sends Jade a quick good morning message and hums to herself as she gets ready in the bathroom.

When she heads out, she notices with a laugh the little glass trophy now sitting on her shelf with a little note.

 _Congrats,_ it reads, _You have an amazing voice, by the way :). —Jade <3 _

She clutches it to her chest, her cheeks heating up pleasantly at that. 

She pushes the trophy on a higher shelf, where it stands out from the rest, a beautifully transparent' the light cast on it creates a faint rainbow. 

The note is tucked under it, positioned so a flap of the paper sticks out just enough for her to pull it out to read whenever she wants to.

**Good morning**

**Someone’s happy today**

**?**

**The 8 million !!!!!’s?**

**I wonder if emotions carry over lol, like what you feel…**

**Probably**

**They’re all fake anyway**

**Just an illusion**

**It’s all chemicals in your brain**

**A chemical imbalance**

Tori considers that.

**Then why does it feel so real?**

**Might as well enjoy the illusion while it lasts**

She holds on to that joyful feeling, a lightness in her chest she has not felt in a long time. Her lips still twitch into an uncontrollable smile, and she finds herself humming a tune that’s stuck in her head. 

It’s a lively tune, but she doesn’t remember the lyrics too much, maybe something about another life?

She shrugs it away, letting the earworm swim around in her head until it fades away.

“So,” her mom drawls when she finally arrives downstairs, “How was that date?”

“It was amazing!” she gushes, although she doesn’t know exactly what happened, “He took me to an under 21 karaoke bar, Karaoke Dokie!”

“The one all the way in Calabasas?”

“Yeah, I won!”

“Won what?” Trina comes trotting downstairs in heels so high Tori rolls her eyes.

“The karaoke contest!”

“Oh, is that the glass thing you were holding last night?” Her mom questions, and when Tori nods in delight, she’s swept into a hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

The older Vega sister just scoffs, “I would’ve beat you if I was there.”

 _No you wouldn’t have,_ she thinks to herself happily, _Because it was Jade singing. The insanely talented, prodigal Jade West who might as well be the prettiest, most talented, amazing person in the world._

Tori just shrugs, spooning cereal into her mouth, still energetic, and even when she arrives at school the next day, her cousin and friend points out her enthusiasm.

“Woah, happy much?”

“You’re practically vibrating.”

“I had a date with Daniel last night!” she bursts out, jumping up and down, “He took me to- Oh! There he is!”

“Hey, Tori,” he gives her that crooked smile, but it throws her off when she feels… nothing? It startles her a little, but does nothing to dampen her mood.

“Hi, Danny!”

She sees her friends’ eyebrows shoot up at the nickname.

He just smiles at her again, “I had fun last night.”

“Me too!”

“We on for next Friday?”

She pushes away the confusion, concluding that he must’ve texted her. So she nods enthusiastically, accepting a light kiss to the cheek.

“Wow,” Lola has an eyebrow cocked, “Do you think he’s just as bad as the others?”

“No,” she defends him instantly, although she doesn’t even know exactly what happened that date.

“You guys didn’t… do anything last night… did you?’

“No!” she squeaks, her cheeks reddening, although she really doesn’t know, “He just dropped me off at my house and kissed me on the cheek. Nothing more!” She recites the details as she was told.

“Right… “ Zoey looks a little suspicious, “I’ve never seen a boy make you this happy before.”

“Well, maybe he’s special?” she suggests, although she knows the answer to that question. No, it’s Jade who’s making her this happy, but it’s not like she can say that without being considered crazy. Besides, passing it off as Daniel is probably the best option.

They shoot her a disbelieving look.

Most of that excess energy is worn off by the time she finishes her P.E. warm-up, and she finds herself a little drained and already hoping for a chance to text Jade.

By second period, she’s a lot more tired than she expects and excuses herself to the bathroom to spam Jade’s phone.

**Jade**

**Jade**

**Jade**

**Jade**

**West**

**West**

**Jadeyyyy**

**Jadelyn August West**

**Ew what**

**Why the full name**

**I had to literally run to the bathroom with my phone snuck in my pocket because of your spam notifications in class smh**

**Oof sorry**

Tori notices that Jade doesn’t tell her to not use the nickname, and smiles to herself.

**So why are you texting me in calculus?**

**It’s so boringggg**

**And I’m tired and was going to fall asleep if I didn’t talk to you**

**Also I have another date set for next Friday so we better not switch**

**Ah, desperate much? ;)**

**But yeah, I have a huge performance on that day that’ll last through school and after so if we switch I’m actually going to die**

**I mean there is a way to not switch…**

**Yes, fine, I’ll pull an all-nighter for you**

**But only because I want to**

**No! You have a performance though…**

**We can switch halfway?**

**I’m not going to let you pull an all-nighter just so we don’t switch**

Despite that, Tori still giggles when she sees Jade’s typical response, knowing it’s just an excuse so that she doesn’t come off as the person who would do anything for her. The thought is a little comforting, however.

**Aw you care about me**

**Yeah I do**

**That’s why I’m not letting you switch**

For some reason, when she admits that she does, it makes her heart skip a beat, like it has tripped and fallen over. It knocks the air from her lungs, and she has to swallow to continue breathing.

Jade doesn’t answer to that, and Tori wonders if she went overboard with that. A little panic sets ablaze, and so she just sends another text message to see if she’s still there.

**The bell just rang… I have five minutes until my next class**

**Alright :)**

**I have like ten more mins of class so I’ma head back soon**

**That okay with you?**

Tori knows Jade more than the thespian would ever allow someone, and she has to hide a grin at the “that okay with you?” If she didn’t know her any better, she would’ve concluded that she had been upset over her response.

She knows that the other girl is a person to do whatever she wants, a person who takes orders from no one, and gets riled up easily, but the fact that she’s asking for permission makes something warm buzz through her. 

**Yeah :)**

**Of course**

As usual, Tori finds herself strangely happy when speaking to Jade. It just… it makes her feel like there’s something worth living for. She’s never been depressed, but she’s always had this feeling of emptiness, something that told her her life wasn’t complete. She’s always felt like something had been missing, a vague hole in her life that she didn’t realize was there until it had been filled.

By Jade, of course. Who would’ve known that randomly switching bodies with a random person could fulfill her life like this?

She heads back to class, a little more wide awake after looking into the small dirty mirror the bathroom, wondering how Jade felt when she stared into the mirror with this expression.

Her hand finds the small charm that dangles from the thin string around her neck and she rubs it; she doesn’t completely remember who gave it to her, just that it had become a huge good luck charm in her life.

***

Jade honestly hates how Tori, a girl she’s never actually met, can occupy her mind in a way where she cannot think of anything else. By the time fourth period is over, she’s driving out of the parking lot in search of the half-Latina she cannot get her mind off of.

So she drives. She knows Tori lives further from Hollywood Arts that she does, closer to the edge of Hollywood and Sherwood, where she can attend Sherwood High School. She starts there, cruising slowly until she catches sight of the high school she attends every few days when they switch. 

The familiar sight makes her breath catch in her throat, and she climbs out, eyes fixed on the name. She walks towards it, knowing that it’s lunchtime, knowing that if Tori’s here, she’ll be at lunch.

Her heart rate picks up, and she muses what it would be like to see Tori for real, not just in the mirror. She imagines that they would look at each other and freeze, smiles slipping across their faces before they stepped forward to greet the other. She fantasizes that they’ll meet, and Tori will know exactly who she is, and they’ll talk about how they thought they were going crazy, and how they thought it was a dream. How the two of them will just know exactly what’s going on, and that they’ll connect like they do over text and email, and they’ll laugh over what they had gone through without realizing, and accidental slip-ups while trying to be the other girl.

She daydreams as she walks, wondering if Tori’s eyes are really that soulful and clear, glimmering with a youthful energy, but still deep orbs of coffee brown she saw when she looked in the mirror that morning. 

She slips into the school from the parking lot, easily passing off as another student with her backpack. She keeps her eyes fixed on the name, in all caps that’s painted like a mural across the top of the school, and doesn’t realize where she’s going until she crashes into someone.

She’s about to lash out, to glare at them until they run away with urine running down their leg when she realizes who it is.

It’s her. She’s real. 

She’s a real, living person, standing right in front of her, an apology ready on her lips, doe brown eyes so familiar… yet different.

“...Tori?”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The stuttering is so familiar to her, yet different, and hearing it from her own body almost makes her collapse and start crying.

There’s no hint of recognition, and her eyebrows stitch together as she gazes at the girl, who’s brushing herself off, righting herself. She might as well be looking at a stranger.

But Jade _knows_ it’s Tori. It’s exactly her, down to the color of her hair, skin, and eyes, and that feather earing drooping from one ear.

“Tori?” it’s no more than a breath, almost feeling like if she speaks any louder, she’ll knock her over.

“How do you know my name?”

Jade meets her eyes for the first time. There’s something different about this girl, and the thespian tells herself it’s just because she’s no longer looking at her through a mirror or a picture. She looks… younger almost, but everything is the same. Down to the feather earring.

Her heart beats rapidly in her throat, hammering she’s convinced Tori can see the vein her neck pulsing with every fast beat. Her stomach flutters pleasantly, and at the moment, she wants nothing more to close the distance between them. She wants nothing more to feel her skin on hers, just to take her in her arms and whisper in her ear, laugh over everything they’ve bickered over, cry about the confusion and the feelings and the joy that’s overtaking her.

But Tori doesn’t recognize her.

“It’s me,” she whispers, “Jade?”

The look of utter bewilderment and unrecognition on the other girl’s face punches a hole in her chest.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you,” Tori whispers, respectful as ever, but she knows the half-Latina can see the anguish in her eyes. She knows Tori wishes she did based on the desperation coming off her in waves.

“It’s fine,” the goth turns away, her eyes already swimming.

“I’m so sorry.” The small voice makes her heart flip once again, and she clutches her chest, her fingers finding the metal charm that dangles from the necklace.

She’s about to leave, students beginning to flood back into the classrooms as the bell rings, but Tori calls out from the multitude of high schoolers, “Wait, what’s your name again?”

“My name is Jade!” she unfastens the necklace around her neck and tosses it at Tori, who catches in her hands, eyes unreadable, but still as soft and alluring as ever.

She almost runs away as the students stream past her, and by the time she’s in her car, her mascara is smeared across her cheeks like… feathers. Like Tori’s feather earring.

She sobs, head buried in her hands while the campus clears out slowly, until from her position outside the gate, the school is completely deserted except for a straggling student. 

“I’m so stupid to think she would know me. Am I just going crazy?” she whispers to herself, driving back half-blind as tears blur her vision, speeding through a yellow light just because she can. Her heart seizes in exhilaration when other cars screech to a halt, honking, but it’s nothing to match the feeling Tori stirs in her. 

She sprints to her room the moment she gets home, staring at the bleeding zombie girl on her poster. 

She wonders what it would feel like to bleed like that. Maybe it’d hurt less than it did right now. She contemplates doing it, just taking out a knife, piercing the capillaries in her skin until the crimson blood oozes out onto her pale skin.

Her chest feels empty. The necklace no longer sits there, cool and heavy against her breastbone when she lays down. 

Her heart feels empty as well. It’s like someone unplugged a hole in her heart that had been filled by Tori, and now she was aware it was there because it was gone. 

A gaping, bloody hole of missing flesh, where all the blood and everything could just gush and poor out of her faster than water rushes down a waterfall.

She cries herself to sleep. It takes hours until the final rays of the sun are gone from the sky until the stars that are visible from the small window in her basement window remind her of the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars in Tori’s bedroom. They glimmer with light that existed minutes ago, a literal promise of a future. It reminds her of glitter on black paper.

The stars mock her that night.

* * *

Tori opens her eyes to the terrifying poster of the undead girl. The loud rock that plays from her phone is immediately silenced, and she walks over to rip the poster from the wall, as usual.

Something feels… different. 

A glance in the mirror confirms it, and she gasps at the dry mascara staining her cheeks. Her eyes are puffy, and so she splashes her face with cold water and scrubs at the old makeup until it disappears.

Her heart aches for Jade; what had happened?

**Hey… you were crying last night.**

**What’s wrong?**

It takes Jade almost ten minutes to reply, but the half-Latina knows she’s there because the three dots flicker before disappearing completely for minutes. They appear again, blinking in and out of existence like stars do when she stares at them for too long, mocking her.

**Don’t worry about it.**

**It’s not your fault.**

**Jade**

**As your friend, I am obliged to know what was bothering you**

**You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?**

**I’m not your friend.**

**It was just a bad day, Tori.**

**No, I didn’t hurt myself.**

**Please, let it go.**

**Jade…**

**What do you want?**

**To know what’s bothering you.**

**That’s for me to know, and you to find out.**

**Stop, Tori.**

**You’re not helping.**

**I’m sorry.**

It only reminds Jade of the day before, and she claps a hand over her mouth as an involuntary sob bursts out of her chest without warning.

_I’m going to be fine, I’m going to be fine. It’s not her fault. There must’ve been something… maybe the universe’s laws or something keeping her from recognizing me. It’s not her fault. Stop blaming her, stop blaming her, stop blaming her, stop…_

She’s crying again, but as Tori this time. Her hands shake as they spell out words on the keyboard, tears blurring her vision to the point she has to wipe her eyes to check that everything is spelled right.

**Vega, I’m going to be okay.**

**Promise?**

**I don’t make promises, remember?**

**Maybe you should.**

**Why?**

**Why not?**

It’s so _Jade_ , coming from her own contact that it brings a chuckle through her. She feels better already.

**Answering my question with another question isn’t a valid reason**

**Oh, come on**

**Why do you have to be so difficult?**

**:)**

Tori lets it go.

The little smiley face is enough to let her know Jade’s okay… or at least she will be.

**Fine.**

**Promise.**

That only confirms it. 

She sets the phone down, her face completely clean and devoid of makeup. Jade’s eyes are still a bit swollen, a tell-tale sign that she had cried herself to sleep. She wets a paper towel and presses it to her eyes, changing the towel every time it adjusts to room temperature.

By the time it’s time to school, the swelling considerably lessens, and Tori attaches the colored extensions like she’s been doing it her whole life.

It’s only when she changes, her clothes coming off until she realizes the necklace is gone.

Missing.

It’s just… gone. Disappeared. Like it evaporated. Just vanished.

She searches rapidly in her room, but she’s unable to spot it, even digging in the trash can.

Her chest feels light, too light, even with the extra weight of the breasts that aren’t hers.

She thinks back to her own necklace. The exact same one she has, in her own body. 

_Maybe she got tired of having matching necklaces and trashed it? That does seem like Jade…_

For some reason, it breaks her heart.

She lets her gaze wander shamelessly across her naked body when she changes. 

_Jade doesn’t need to know…_

She applies eyeliner and mascara, adjusting it so it looks like typical _Jade,_ the Jade she doesn’t really know, but the Jade she sees in pictures scattered throughout the room.

She remembers to remove the scissors from her boot before slipping it on, tucking it into her waistband as Jade would.

Everything she does is so _Jade_ , so not her, and someone else, but she doesn’t feel ridiculous doing it. In fact, it feels almost normal. Like her second life, her alter ego, almost, is just a part of her now.

It’s reassuring. It’s a part of her. Scratch that, it _is_ her.

***

Tori is relieved when she wakes up in her own body, in her own room on Friday. Why she’s not excited for the date, she doesn’t know. But something churns in her stomach and pulls at her chest, something she decides to ignore.

She fidgets through the day, barely listening in class and doodling in blank sheets of paper Hollywood Arts. Not the front, but the places you can’t just see from outside. The huge auditorium that rivals a movie theater. The smaller Black Box Theater used for smaller productions. The Asphalt Cafe from under the awning rather than the view an outsider would see standing outside the black fence. The main hall with the lockers. Sikowitz’s classroom. All these locations are slowly sketched into sheets of paper, rigid, straight lines followed by softer strokes of the curves in the lunch tables.

By the time school is over and Tori arrives at home, she’s filled with a strange restless energy that has her tapping her foot so insistently even Trina pauses her singing to tell her to stop.

She texts Jade throughout the say, her only form of comfort and solace with this weird feeling that’s rushing through her. 

**Vega**

**Yeah?**

**What’s up?**

**You’re the first to know this… but**

**Beck broke up with me**

**WHAT**

**Yeah**

**But…**

**Why?**

**Said I was becoming distant… distracted all the time**

**Wait is that my fault**

**I’m so sorry!**

**He thinks I don’t like him anymore**

**Nonono it’s fine…**

**How are you feeling?**

Tori asks the question a little tentatively, not sure if she’ll receive an answer, even. Her heart breaks for Jade… but at the same time, she’s strangely elated and it has a painful guilt pooling in her stomach. 

_Maybe I’m just glad I don’t have to kiss Beck anymore when we switch._

She knows that’s not true.

**Eh…**

**Numb**

**Idk I’m… not upset**

**Huh**

**Am I a bad person?**

**To… not be upset over the fact he’s broke up with me?**

**I feel like I never liked him**

**Did I lead him on?**

**I’m a terrible person**

**Tori**

**He hates me…**

**Jade**

**Heyheyhey, calm down**

**Take a deep breath**

Tori quickly scrolls through her favorites album in the camera roll, sending a GIF of an unfolding polygon that is oddly comforting to look at, the words INHALE and EXHALE on the bottom of the screen, corresponding to the shape’s movements.

**It’s gonna be okay**

**You’re going to be okay**

**Don’t say that if you don’t mean it**

**You don’t know if I’m going to be okay**

**You promised, remember?**

**You’re going to be okay**

**But you have to let yourself be okay**

**Deep breath Jade**

**I can confirm you’re not a bad person**

**Only because you made me into a decent person when you were in me!**

Tori blushes furiously at the wording of the sentence.

**Uh…**

**That came out wrong**

**I meant… when you were me lmao**

**Wow okay**

**Anyway**

**But really**

**You’re not a bad person**

**The fact that you’re worrying about his feelings right now shows that you care enough to be considered a decent person**

**I dunno, Vega**

**You’re a good person, Jade**

**Trust me**

**Strangely enough, I do**

**Good**

**Listen to me… you don’t have to be upset**

**You’re not obliged to be upset**

**It’s completely fine that you’re not**

**How would you know?**

**Remember when you said that all our emotions are just chemicals?**

**Chemical imbalance?**

**Think about it that way**

**You don’t have to sob and be in tears to show that you care about a relationship or a person… that’s not how it works**

**...but I am crying as we speak?**

**Jade…**

**I’m so sorry**

**Nah, it’s fine**

**Just don’t worry about it**

**It’s not your fault**

**So don’t apologize**

**Are you sure?**

**Maybe this body-swapping thing took a toll on you**

**That means it’s my fault you’re so distracted all the time**

**Tori**

**Stop**

**I wouldn’t have it any other way**

**The body-swapping, I mean**

**I’m grateful I met you**

**Ditto to that**

**I want to say I don’t regret it…**

**But I didn’t cause it…**

**But really, I don’t regret all this… I mean, I had to have triggered this in some way… there’s gotta be a reason we’re switching**

**Eh, we’ll find that out eventually… maybe**

**Yeah**

**Hey, you know our necklaces?**

**We had the same one**

**Yours… disappeared yesterday**

**I gave it away**

**Why? To who?**

There’s a long hesitation. Tori scrolls up, checking to see if she’s said anything wrong.

She throws the phone on her bed with a defeated sigh, when the chime of a message has her springing to check the notification.

**Someone**

**Who… honestly probably as a better use for it**

**Oh**

**Then it’s not that, I guess?**

**Probably just a coincidence**

Despite it being a text message, she feels… resentment, almost? No, frustration, anger almost _radiating_ off it. She frowns, shrugging it away.

**Yeah.**

**How are you doing?**

**Still crying**

**Don’t worry about it**

**It’s just tears**

**Jade you’re hurting…**

**And that hurts me**

**It’s not something you can fix**

**Hey Jade?**

**Yeah?**

**I’m happy to be your friend… I’m always here, remember?**

**Just a text message away**

**I know we don’t know each other in real life, but I’m here**

**Thank you**

**Again**

**Idk… talking to you is always the highlight of my day**

**You make me smile...and it really means a lot**

**Gahhh, being you is getting to me**

**I’m getting so corny and cringy**

**:D**

**You make me happy toooooo**

**Thank you for doing that**

**How?**

**What have I ever done?**

**Talked to me**

**Been there for me**

**Just texting you always makes me feel better…**

**Aw**

**Okay this is getting too corny for my liking**

**:)**

Tori laughs at that statement, knowing that despite the tough front Jade hides behind, inside, she’s pretty human. She has emotions, she feels a lot more than a lot of people. She just does a better job of hiding it. And from the scripts and stories she’s read from her computer, she’s concluded Jade is a hopeless romantic as well. Man, if her friends ever found out… 

The goth disappears offline to get in a quick nap, telling her that she still has a few hours before she has to go onstage, and Tori sighs, running her fingers through her hair.

So she cleans her room. Again.

Nothing much had changed since the last time; it reminded her so much of Jade she didn’t have the heart to disrupt it. But her desk is now unorganized, papers and pencils lying around. Some random garbage and clothes lay on the floor, probably falling from the back of her chair.

So she arranges everything until it looks and feels the same as last time.

Jade sends her a quick text about an hour or two later, and she discovers that she’s already at school, having just woken up and then driven by her mom.

They spend the next thirty minutes laughing over the people in Hollywood Arts’s Big Showcase. Jade sends her short clips of people singing a little too offf key and screwing up dance moves, some people having embarrassing voice cracks, even, probably out of nerves. In a few clips, she can hear the soft tinkle of Jade’s light laughter, and it makes her throat constrict at the beautiful sound.

At some point, her heart is pounding so hard in every part of her body at Jade’s voice, her _real voice_ , and not the voice that comes out of her throat when she’s in Jade’s body, she’s not sure she can take anymore without blowing up.

**Okay I gotta go…**

**Sure you’ll be okay?**

**Yeah, yeah**

**I’ll be fine, thanks to you**

**Talk later?**

**After the showcase and your date**

**Of course**

**Good day**

**Hola**

**:)**

Tori shuts off the phone with a small smile, biting her lower lip with a soft sigh.

She spends what seems to be the next hour choosing an outfit, finding something she can wear to impress Daniel. Maybe to prove she’s that confident, cool girl he met with just a couple of months before.

“Dress casual,” she mutters to herself, “Dress casual. What’s casual?” She reads over his text messages, scanning them for some sort of hint on where he’s taking her, but she gets nothing.

**Jade Jade I know you’re doing the showcase soon but if you see this, what’s casual? Aghhh idk what to wear for the date?**

**What do I wear what do I wear what do I wear what do I wear**

The half-Latina bites back a smile when it’s read almost instantly. 

**Uh…**

**Idk idk idk idk**

**Bruh**

**Okay, Vega**

**No, reallyyy**

**I need your help**

**Pleaseee**

***puppy eyes***

**Sigh**

**Wear black or white**

**Looks good on you**

**Or anything really**

**Jeans and with literally anything that’s not a t-shirt**

**Straighten your hair a bit maybe?**

**Tie back a little section on each side maybe**

**Hmm okie**

**Thanks**

She rushes to her closet to find the clothes the other girl suggests, throwing her random school and field trip shirts that she got for free until she comes across something wearable. Her hair is pulled back, just a few strands on each side. She slips on boots, looking in the mirror and adjusting her outfit until it seems presentable.

She heads outside, setting the camera on her porch, setting a timer for three seconds and running backward until she can pose… well, not really. But it looks nice, so she sends it to Jade, heading back inside.

**How’s that**

****

**:)**

**What’s that supposed to meannnn**

**You look good**

**Just good?**

**:)**

**Jadelyn!**

**vIcToRiA**

**> :(**

**Seriously**

She’s not even sure who she wants to impress anymore. The boy who is picking her up in the next half hour, or the girl she’s texting, the girl she’s never seen with her own eyes, the girl that makes her stomach flutter more than any boy has ever been able to.

**Yeah**

**You look cute :)**

**Aww**

**Means a lot coming from you**

**:)**

**Hey can I ask you a random question?**

**Sure**

So she does, ask her a random question. From there, it branches into casual conversation, and Tori loses track of time. It feels like mere minutes, but it’s obviously way longer than that; she slumps when Jade has to leave.

**Hehe**

**Gotta gooo**

**Good luck out there :D**

(Tori thinks she does a good job of hiding her disappointment. After all, it’s pretty easy when there’s a screen to filter most of the emotions out of her words.)

**Love youuu**

**Thank you**

**Love you too**

Tori doesn’t realize her cheeks are burning until she pockets the phone, and she presses her hands to them with a dreamy sigh.

Trina bursts in.

She yelps, her hands flying to her sides almost like she’s hiding something. Luckily for her, Trina is the most self-centered, unaware sister and she’s glad it’s the reason her older sister doesn’t notice a thing out of place in this situation.

“I need your shirt… um, that pink top you got at the mall like two months ago?”

The younger sister just points to her closet, her eyes still alight with joy.

“Why are you so smiley and blushy?” Trina’s eyes narrow, “Since when has a boy been able to do that to you?”

She just shrugs, bouncing on her knees, the mattress sinking and bobbing beneath her weight.

“Who’s Jade?”

Her heart stops.

“W-what?”

“Like, you have these notes sitting around the room from her and stuff, like that-”

“Where did you get that?” Her voice is oddly shrill, and she snatches the paper from her sister. To her horror, it’s the slip that had been under the karaoke trophy.

“Oh, I walked in to ask for some clothes, but you weren’t here, and this was on the floor.” Tori’s head snaps up, ready to defend herself, but Trina’s already deep in her closet, ruffling through her shirts.

Completely oblivious, the older Vega pulls the pink top out, holding it up against her own chest, “How does it look?”

“Great,” she answers weakly, clutching the note so hard in her fingers, her hand trembles.

“Fabulous!” Trina skips out, taking the shirt with her, and Tori slumps down in her bed, reading the note over and over again until the words and the little smiley face and the heart, _especially the heart_ , are burned into her mind.

With shaking fingers, she slips it back into her trophy, relieved that she doesn’t have a diary. Who knows how much of it Trina would’ve read if she just had one sitting on her desk?

Just then, she gets a text message, her phone vibrating.

She snatches it immediately; it’s become a habit after she had started texting Jade, and she tries to ignore the sinking disappointment when she sees that it’s Daniel.

_It’s your date. You have to be excited. Just smile._

She forces a smile, letting herself relax before she heads outside. Danny’s familiar car sits right next to the curb, and she runs to him with, her lips straining to put up a presentable smile.

“Hi!” she waves at him excitedly, plopping in the passenger seat.

“Hey,” he leans towards her to peck her on the cheek softly, and she waits for that buzz to rush through her at that… but nothing does. She doesn’t let that deter her, however, and gives him an enthusiastic smile.

“So, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Dude.”

“Really.”

“Just put on your seatbelt and you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“You’re a lot more excited this time,” he comments, and she just nods, deflating a little bit.

_He’s comparing me to Jade, oh God._

“Just excited to be with you,” she gives him another halfhearted grin, but she feels it fading when she slumps back in her seat.

“Oh hey, it’s this song.” Daniel finally speaks up after moments of silence.

“What?”

“Remember? The one you sang at Karaoke Dokie?”

“Oh, right, yes.” She nods, her fingers itching to pull out her PearPhone and text Jade. But she knows she’s busy.

The ride is silent; she’s not sure how to make conversation after that, listening to the lyrics of the song, and finally just taking out her phone to Zaplook it. It makes her ache and hurt despite the kick and the lively beat it has.

_The One That Got Away…_

She adds it to her PearTunes playlist.

They finally arrive at a place; Tori can see that it’s a restaurant.

“Wow,” she looks at it; it looks a little run down, and she’s glad she decided to wear something more on the casual side. “What is this place?”

He takes her hand as she pushes the door shut behind her, “Just the best restaurant in the world. It’s a revolving sushi bar,” he explains as they walk in. It’s full, and she looks at him expectantly, but he just shrugs. “They don’t let you make reservations, but don’t worry, the wait is pretty fast.”

They take a number and stand outside the door.

The wait is not fast.

After about half an hour, Tori is fidgety, and she needs to use the restroom, but she continues tapping away on her PearPhone, seeing Daniel do the same.

By the time they get inside, he asks if they can pay separately for their own food, and she just nods absently, scanning over the menu. Everything has a base value of at least two dollars and fifty cents, even if it’s just a plate of two _nigiri_ sushi, or even a miniscule bowl of watermelon.

She doesn’t eat much; she only has about fifty dollars tucked into her phone, and she doesn’t feel like using that much of it. Throughout the dinner, she just nods to Daniel’s comments and questions, mumbling answers while she pretends to chew, keeping her gaze on the plate. The sushi is better at Nozu anyway.

To her credit, she forces a laugh when a little cartoon plays on the screen, after Daniel manages to eat twelve of the fifteen plates that have been inserted into the little device that sends them back to the kitchen. Tori will admit that it’s cool, but she doesn’t understand why she’s here when Nozu has much better and much more affordable sushi.

By the end of dinner, she’s barely said a word to Daniel, and something in her chest seems to fall away. She’s not sure what it is, but it leaves her feeling a bit empty, like she’s forgetting something.

They walk out of the restaurant after about one and a half hours, during which Tori uses the bathroom twice. Just to check if Jade’s done with her performance. She doesn’t receive a text message, so the half-Latina just assumes the thespian is busy.

“Uh, Danny, I mean, Daniel,” she fumbles when he opens the door for her when they arrive back at her house, “Do you want to… you know, come in? Hang out a little more?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, the same one that made her heart speed up just a little bit the first time she met him. It does nothing for her now, and she looks up, a little apprehensive as she awaits his response.

“Tori… you’re great, and all, but…”

_Oh God, there’s a but._

Strangely enough, her heart doesn’t shatter like it has with her past failed relationships. Instead, she feels nothing.

“Let’s call it a day.”

She glances at the clock. It’s only 7 pm. They had gone to dinner very early.

“W-what?”

He gives her a forced smile at that, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, okay?”

She nods, her gut tight with pensiveness. 

“You had a bit of a crush on me?”

She blushes a little, croaking out a response that is enough of a _Yes_.

“But now you like someone else.”

She freezes, “N-no, I don’t.”

“Really?”

“No! There’s no one else, I swear!” She feels her heart pounding, and that feeling of losing something just grows stronger in her chest, and her throat constricts.

She swallows.

“I wonder… I dunno, you were a little… distant and unfocused. Well, then…” He pats her lightly on the shoulder, “You don’t like me anymore, do you?”

She just looks at him mutely.

“Tori…”

She sighs, “I-I don’t know. I’ve been feeling so weird lately, and I need to figure this all out, and I’m so sorry, I just-”

“Hey, hey, hey, Tori.” She takes a deep breath, looking at him. His brown eyes look a lot like her own, and for a second, she wonders how Jade felt looking into them.

_Stop clinging on to that hope Jade likes you. You don’t even know each other. Stop._

“Don’t worry about it.”

She blinks at him.

“I’ll see you at school, okay?”

She nods, climbing out of his car, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good…”

“See you.” And with that, she turns and flees, waiting for his car to pull away before pulling out her phone, tears already welling up in her eyes, until her eyes are brimming with them, threatening to overflow after a single blink.

She dials Jade’s number without thinking, putting the phone up to her ear. Her head is tipped back in a futile attempt to keep the tears at bay.

The phone rings once.

Twice.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Voicemail.

It’s Jade’s voice, a little lifeless and lacking much emotion, so different than when it had come out of her throat. 

Still, she recognizes the tone, a little sultry, a little raspy, dipping into the vocal fry register at the end of every phrase. It makes her shiver a little, and she waits out the entire thing before pressing the red end button.

She blinks once, and a single, lone tear streaks down her face, followed by another, and another, until she’s crying.

The feeling that she’s losing something, forgetting something hits her all at once, and she sinks to her knees on her porch, her chest already shaking and heaving with the weight of her sobs.

She clicks Jade’s contact again, silently begging her to pick up.

She doesn’t.

After not even a ring, she hears an automated message. She thinks it’s voicemail, but it’s not Jade’s voice.

“The number you dialed is no longer in service-”

She slams her thumb on the end button, letting herself sob into her arms until she’s aware of the fact she’s being coaxed to her feet.

Before she realizes what’s happening, she’s sitting on the couch with a tissue in hand, sniffling.

“What happened?” Her mom looks concerned, forehead creased. It’s the same as any failed relationship or date… her entire life. Not a single relationship has ever worked out for her, and it hurts to no end.

“Nothing like before,” she hiccups, taking the cup of water gratefully when she’s handed it.

“Then why are you crying?”

“It’s my fault,” she blinks, and another wave of tears cascade down her already-wet, flushed cheeks. “He says I don’t like him anymore. He doesn’t think I’m interested in him.”

“Well, are you?”

She just shrugs, her shoulders lifting and falling limply, like she has no strength to lift them anymore, “I don’t know.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know how I feel anymore. I need to figure it out. There’s someone else- No, there isn’t, technically, but there’s-”

“Shh, shh,” her mom takes her in her arms, and she cries silently into her mother’s shoulder until she falls asleep that night, her cheeks caked in makeup and dried tears, her throat raw with the silent cries of help and agony, her heart emptier than it’s ever been in almost eighteen years, and she doesn’t even know why. 

After that, never switch again.


	8. October 23rd

Jade lets out a sharp exhale of relief when she wakes up in her own bedroom on Friday. Her poster for _The Scissoring_ has been torn down as usual, when she wakes up the morning after they switch. She chuckles to herself, running her thumb over the clear tape and applying a little bit more so it stays stuck to the wall.

The heaviness in her chest is gone, and she thinks back to the message she sent to Tori about feelings just being chemicals in her brain.

It seems that it’s right because the pain that had filled her chest and every cavity in her being last night seemed to have evaporated. 

She gets a text from Tori, asking if she’s okay, and it warms her body until she’s blushing, her stomach twisting in that way that’s simultaneously familiar and new to her, because she just cannot get used to it.

She winces when she realizes that the half-Latina probably woke up with mascara all over her face, her cheeks caked and coated with dry makeup and tears. 

Jade doesn’t even get a chance to apologize because Tori’s grilling her, asking if she’s okay, why she’s crying.

It makes her feel loved.

She smiles that rare genuine smile— not so rare anymore, thanks to Tori— as she texts back shaking her head with a little laugh at the concern that just shines through.

It still stings a little at the fact that Tori didn’t realize who she was, but she doesn’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault, Jade knows that for sure, and she knows it’s useless to blame her.

And then she freaking _apologizes_ as if she thinks it’s her fault, and Jade exhales deeply, wondering how in the name of chiz she didn’t have this girl as a friend in real life.

_You are unbelievable Tori, unbelievable._

She heads to school with a small grin on her face, and she’s sure Beck notices because he asks if they can hang out in his RV after school, before the showcase. Today is a minimum day; it’s the day of the Big Showcase, so everyone is let out early to get ready and for soundcheck. It’s also the last day before Winter Break.

He’s taking advantage of her good mood, she knows it, but accepts it anyway. It’s not like she has anything to do after school, and doing homework with someone allows her to focus rather than just daydream and write randomly like she does when she’s alone.

The day passes quickly; every class is incredibly short, and most of the time, she just sits there with her phone out.

Gradstein makes them work like usual, and she finds it amusing when he blows up over not having enough time in class to finish their work despite having four classes before her that all probably had the same outcome.

She grabs a coffee and a salad from the Grub Truck before meeting Beck in the parking lot. She gives him a little nod, throwing her head back to sip the drink. She smiles to herself at the extra sugar that had been dissolved in the hot liquid; she had developed a taste for Tori’s sweetened coffee.

“Hey,” Beck greets in his usual, not-so-interesting voice, pressing a kiss to the side of her head (which she flinches away from) and they began their short stroll to his house.

He notices the way she turns away and refuses to make eye contact but makes no comment.

She wishes they had a car; after leaving campus for lunch on multiple occasions with Lola and being driven home by Trina, she had gotten used to just taking a car almost everywhere, and she didn’t want to walk.

Within half an hour, they’re seated in his RV, Jade on the couch, Beck on the bed, as usual.

As usual, her papers are strewn everywhere on the couch by the time she’s finished, despite being an organized person, and Beck pats the seat next to him on the bed as he turns on Netflicks.

His arm creeps around her shoulder, and she ducks out of his grip, shrinking away from him.

She can see the frustration on his face, and it brings her a little satisfaction, although along with a little guilt.

_Ugh, screw Tori for making me this… ugh, dare I say, decent person._

He pulls her into his arms, and she rips herself away almost immediately, twisting so she’s sitting up.

Beck runs a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh, “Jade, what do you want?”

“For you to not touch me.”

“You were fine with it before.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m fine with it now.”

“God, Jade. And I thought you were being a nicer person.”

She just shrugs, not meeting his gaze.

“It had nothing to do with me, did it? There’s someone else?”

Her heart stops. _What?_ “I haven’t cheated on you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“So there is someone else.”

“When did I say that?”

“You’re not denying it.”

She just gives him a noncommittal grunt.

“Jade… if there’s someone else, I don’t want to get in the way.”

She whirls to face him, “What?”

“I don’t want to be your boyfriend if I’m not your first choice,” he shrugs. Despite his calm front, she can see that he’s hurt. Exhausted. 

_Of me?_

“But-”

“Look, you have been this whole other person. You were so nice these past few weeks, and you smiled more. And I’m not the one doing that.”

“So? What if I want to be with you?”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t be with h- them.”

His eyes widen in understanding, “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“When did I say that?” Her tone is evasive again, and Beck chuckles.

“I’m not dumb. Why would you say “them” if it was a boy?”

“So… you’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because there’s someone else, you freaking nub!” She shakes her head disbelievingly, gritting her teeth because it just feels so _weird_ to have finally admitted it, “And because it’s a girl,” she adds quietly.

He snorts, “The first, one, maybe. But honestly, it’s been long coming. Just didn’t see it. And I’m not homophobic, Jade. In fact, I think I’m bisexual myself.”

Her eyebrows stitch together, “You’re bi- wait. What did you mean by long coming?”

He just shrugs, “We weren’t going to last. What do you expect from a relationship from the eighth grade?”

She slumps, “Either way, I can’t have her.”

“I don’t want to be your second choice.”

“She’s not a choice,” Jade says bitterly, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth.

“What do you mean? She is _the_ choice. And if it’s because she’s, well, a _she_ , then-”

“No!” she bursts out with a groan, “I’m not saying that because she’s female. But no matter what, she _is not a choice._ ”

“Who’s Tori?”

She freezes, barely managing an audible, “W-what?”

“It’s her, isn’t it?” His tone isn’t accusing, but he’s pointing at her.

“How do you know Tori?”

“Remember? When you had your laptop open? Tori was literally doing your homework for you.”

“Oh.” 

“Who is she?”

“None of your-” she sighs, cutting herself off. _I have to tell him, goddammit._ She continues in a subdued voice, “Beck… you have to believe me when I say this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Her and I… we are, how do I say this, switching bodies.”

“W-what?” He stutters out, expression incredulous.

“See? You don’t believe me?”

“B-but… how?”

“If I knew, I would’ve told you.”

“I don’t understand.”

She snorts, “I don’t either. You know how you said I was nicer and happier? I’m sure most of that was Tori… and everything else was her making me happy. So… “

He still looks confused.

“I have her number,” she explains. “I text her when we switch. Her doing my homework was actually me doing my own homework from her body.”

“Okay?”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Jade pleads, shaking his arm.

“You said please.”

“And?”

“Um… you usually just demand things.”

“It’s my inner Tori. Anyway-”

“Inner… Tori?”

“I told you, we’re switching bodies! Meaning I’m her on certain days, meaning I have to act like her…”

“So is she in Gradstein? Because I don’t remember a Tori in Gradstein.”

She shakes her head, “She goes to Sherwood High.”

Her boyfriend… er, ex-boyfriend (she really doesn’t know) perks up, “Then we have to go find her!”

“I tried.” Her voice catches in her throat, and a rush of frustration and anger rushes through her, “She didn’t recognize me.”

“But that- What?”

“I don’t know. This whole thing is wack? What if I’m just delusional?”

“Don’t you have her number?”

Jade nods, pulling up PearMessages, showing Beck all their text messages back from the beginning.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Right there.”

“What about-” she freezes when she catches sight of some of the texts. “Oh.”

_Love you too._

“You told her you love her!”

Her face burns furiously, and she curses herself for it, “So?”

“You haven’t even said that to me!” His voice isn’t angry or envious, just astonished.

“It was just in a friendly way!”

“You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“No, seriously. Your face is bright red.” A teasing grin dances on his lips, but it fades when the next question slips out of his mouth, “Are you… are you in love with her?”

“NO!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve never even met her! How can I be- How can that be possible?” 

“You told her you love her. You haven’t even said that to Cat.”

“Well, only because she said it first,” she insists stubbornly.

“ _I_ said it first.” He says slowly, quietly.

She turns to face him after gazing at the message for a long moment, a genuine apology in her eyes, “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

He laughs again, “There it is. She’s changing you. Even _I_ can’t do that.”

She sighs, shame swirling in her gut. It nauseates her.

“Jade… don’t hate me when I say I think we’re… better off as friends.”

She opens her mouth, ready to fight back desperately.

“Stop. Don’t. You don’t like me like that.”

“What?” She manages at last.

“You might’ve had a crush on me in eighth grade, but that’s long gone.”

“I still like you,” she tells him desperately.

He pats her shoulder, “Not like you like Tori.”

“I don’t like her!”

“Then how do you explain how you’re so happy all of a sudden? You look happier.” he gives her a small smile, “I know I didn’t do that.”

“It’s just Tori’s cheery personality rubbing off on me,” she grumbles defensively.

“No, seriously. You have this new look in your eyes. Like you’re glowing.”

“No, I don’t,” she argues.

“Stop arguing with me.” The long-haired actor looks amused, “I’ve never seen you look like that before. It’s her. It has to be her.”

“What if she doesn’t really exist?” she whispers.

“But she does. You’re texting her.”

“I meant- she didn’t recognize me. What if it’s an alternate universe kind of thing?”

“Then go find her in this universe. Befriend her.”

“But what if I don’t want to be her friend? What if I want mo-” She claps a hand over her mouth, but it’s too late.

“Told ya,” Beck grins smugly. “Don’t fight it. You’re in love with her and that’s that.”

Her entire body sags, “What if I don’t want to be?” It’s quiet, no more than a murmur.

“I don’t think you can choose who you love.”

“That’s stupid.”

“That’s life.”

She stands up, stacking all the papers and shoving them, neatly, into her backpack. “I think I need to go home.”

“Go ahead. I’ll call you when I get to school..”

She hesitates, her toes and fingers twitching, before she lunges forward to wrap him in an awkward hug, “I’m sorry we didn’t work out.”

He awkwardly embraces her back, patting the back of her head as he does so, “It was bound to happen eventually.”

She looks at him curiously.

“Jade, you never wanted to date me. You just liked that I was… pretty.”

“What? No.” She scoffs.

“You also liked that I was your friend, someone you knew. It was just a little crush that led to a relationship that didn’t need to happen.”

“What about you?”

He looks amused, “Ah, inner Tori, so selfless.”

“No, really?”

His shoulders raise to his ears, falling back down shortly thereafter. “I’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Beck-”

“I’m going to be fine.”

Despite being so happy and not-so-empty anymore for the past few months, she feels like a burden has finally been lifted off her shoulders; the knowledge that she had been switching bodies has been shared between her and Beck.

Her mouth parts in a long yawn, turning to Beck, “Why did you believe me so easily? You know I’m a pathological liar. For all you know, I could’ve set this up.”

He turns to her from his mini-fridge, pulling out a can of lemonade. “But you didn’t.”

“What if I did?”

“You wouldn’t have. Besides, remember that time you went to school claiming you didn’t remember the day before? That was probably the first day you switched. And then when you returned to normal, you were super distracted in class.”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah.”

“See you tonight?”

He raises his can towards her, and she just gives him a small wave before stepping outside, shutting the metal door behind her.

She’s… not upset.

She takes a deep breath, guilt flooding her suddenly, and she walks numbly home.

Before she even steps foot over the threshold of her front door, she’s pulling her phone out, tapping rapidly until she finds Tori’s contact. 

_What if I’m a bad person? Am I a terrible person for not being upset? I hurt Beck. Just like I always do. What if he secretly hates me?_

Her cheeks are wet, and she runs her forearm across her cheekbones, catching the droplets that are beginning to spill over, and like a dam breaking, cracking slowly, leaking, and then bursting, her chest explodes with a sob the minute she reaches her room, her fingers sprinting across the keyboard.

Somehow, like she always does, Tori has her feeling better in minutes, and she notes the lightness of her chest despite the tears streaming from her eyes, remembering Beck’s words. It sends a fresh wave of tears flooding from her eyes, and she taps out text messages urgently, holding on to the feeling the half-Latina is giving her, clutching it close, and imagining for a second that it’s the way she feels when she’s with Beck.

By the time she’s finished crying, she’s utterly exhausted, and she sends the half-Latina a quick apology, telling her she wants to get a nap in. She checks the clock; the Showcase has already started, but it’s a few hours until she has to go on. Despite being a freshman, she’s lined up pretty late, almost towards the end. She’s just talented that way.

She drifts off to sleep seeing Tori’s glow-in-the-dark stars behind her eyelids, a small sorrowful smile on her lips. 

***

She wakes up to her ringtone. _It’s Beck,_ she notes groggily, and presses the phone to her ear, responding to his words with a grunt.

He’s already at the school, so she grabs her pre-packed bags with her outfit and everything and hops in the car. Her brain screams at her to text Tori, but her mom is sitting in the seat right next to her, and she does not want to explain why she’s texting in the car.

She arrives at Hollywood Arts about half an hour before her call time, so she just sits backstage, peering at the performers through the curtains that dangle from the wings.

There’s really no such thing as a bad talent show when she attends an arts school, but she’s always been observant, and she can’t help but chuckle at the little screw-ups that happen on stage: dead microphone, the wrong intro from the band, sometimes played in the wrong key, missteps in dance moves. She records them for the sake of it, her laughter practically equivalent to the laughing track in a Nickelodeon sit-com. She cuts the most hilarious parts (in her opinion) and messages them to Tori; together they chuckle over these people.

A slight movement from the audience catches her eye, and she frowns when she catches sight of a figure, unidentifiable in the dim light, hood pulled down low over his head. She recognizes the mop of curly hair and glasses as that one kid from acting class. Maybe he has a crush on Cat? She doesn’t remember.

He walks slowly over to the door that leads to a small staircase, which goes backstage. He slumps a little, tucking his head down in order to remain unseen. Jade watches him, curious. In making such an effort to hide so blatantly, he makes it more obvious that he stands out.

Her phone vibrates with a notification, and she glances at the screen to see that it’s a text message from Tori, who sends a quick _Okay, gotta go_ , to her disappointment. She wonders if she’s scared her off by laughing at the performers.

She pockets her phone with a soft exhale, still buzzing from the high she receives from speaking to Tori. She holds a hand to her fluttering heart, prolonging the feeling before it slowly ebbs, fading away.

Beck waves at her from across the backstage area, and she lifts a hand in return, sauntering over to him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he nods back, and it’s a little awkward. Despite Jade being… well, _Jade, she_ hates this tension— the wrong type of tension— between them. 

“So, uh,” she starts, ”good luck out there.” She reminds herself that she doesn’t really care, but it’s an effort to make things better between them. Her heart is still weighed down with guilt; usually, she wouldn’t care that she’s hurt someone, but when Tori has now permanently lodged itself in her brain, and this is _Beck_ , it’s like a merciless grip at her heart.

_So that’s what guilt feels like._

“You too,” he smiles warmly, and for a second, she feels a glimmer of a smile ghost her lips. And for old times’ sake, she hugs him. Just for a quick second. She wraps her arms around him, in a _thank you_ and I _miss you_ and I'm _sorry_ all at the same time.

A buzz in her back pocket startles her and she reaches to check the notification on her lock screen.

“Is it Tori?”

“What?” she sputters at her ex-boyfriend.

“You lit up like a Christmas tree.”

“Oliver, if you don’t shut your face hole-”

“Okay, okay,” he backs up, hands beside his ears. The small grin on his lips assures her that they’re still the same Beck and Jade, the good-looking couple who screamed at each other quite often, but in the end, still somehow made up and could become civil towards one another. 

She unlocks her phone, reading the desperate text message fondly, shaking her head at this adorable dorkiness that’s being exuded over several text messages.

“You have that look on your face again,” the boy comments.

She whips out her scissors from their home in her waistband and just points the slightly parted blades at him, after swinging it on her index finger dangerously.

He just mimes zipping his lips, so she rolls her eyes at him. He may as well be Tori’s brother. They even have a similar bone structure.

_Oh God… do I have a type? Okay, nope nope nope. My crush on Vega is invalid because I don’t know her. Beck doesn’t know what he’s saying. No feelings here._

In her mind’s eye, she sees Tori, eyes sparkling, lips curved in a grin, probably giggling at her attempt at telling herself she doesn’t have feelings. She’d probably make a pun out of it or something. _Denial’s not just a river in Egypt_ , she’d probably wiggle a finger at her, lips contorting from that easygoing grin to a knowing smirk _._

She offers Tori a little help on what to wear for her date with Daniel, jaw almost dropping when she sends a picture of herself, not quite posing at the camera. She notices the miniscule strands of hair that are tied back, giving her a more young and childish look, which only makes her more adorable. 

_Ugh, how can a human being look so… pretty and adorable?_

She teases her just for a bit, trying to keep her responses short and vague, in the case she loses control and sends something she’ll regret.

Before she can say much more than _You look cute,_ a stage crew member, Jensen or Sinjin, or something like that walks up, his curly red hair bouncing on his head, eyes creepily wide through the frames of his glasses.

“You’re on in about an hour. Get ready.”

“Right. And _never_ touch me.” She glares at him menacingly, noting with satisfaction the terror in his eyes when she pulls out her trusty blades.

“Got it,” the boy squeaks, darting away.

She notices someone in the sound booth, edging close to the technology, and she frowns, taking a few steps forward to inspect his behavior. The nervous boy glances around every few seconds like he’s expecting someone to jump him at any moment. He clearly has something under his shirt; his arms keep drifting in front of him ever so slightly. His right hand keeps reaching into his pocket to fidget for something, but what makes her frown are his eyes.

So… dull.

She finds herself walking over to the guy— Jade remembers his name is Robert or Robbie— eyeing him suspiciously.

She taps him on the shoulder, and the student jumps, arms wrapped protectively around his chest. He turns slowly, and as his arms fall away, she squints at the square outline in his shirt. 

Her gaze flickers to the hand in his pants pocket, where his hand twitches. She catches sight of a flash of red, and upon further inspection, there’s a wire leading to his shirt, camouflaging against his black pants.

“Robbie, right?”

Something changes in his face then, maybe relief, recognition? Relieved to be seen and recognized?

He nods.

“What’s that?” She points to his shirt, immediately noticing the way his forearms drift protectively over his chest.

“Nothing,” he says immediately, adjusting his glasses, which does nothing. Jade rolls her eyes.

“Robbie…”

He glances at the watch on his wrist, and she looks at her phone. The clock switches over from 6:59 pm to 7 as the screen illuminates, and she watches as his thumb covers the red in his pocket.

And then there’s a faint beeping.

“Is that…”

She backs away from him, eyeing him warily.

The kid nods, the curls bouncing on his head, “Run.”

“Wait, what?”

“You don’t have time. Run! You have three minutes!”

She nods, immediately sprinting away to find Beck, thrusting through the crowd and ignoring anyone who tries to stop her.

She glances backward at the awkward boy, who just looks on, his eyes wide with an apology.

So she grabs her ex-boyfriend and screeches at him to run over the chatter backstage, and his eyes furrow.

“There’s a bomb,” she gasps out, pushing him towards the stage door. “Just… get… out!”

“What about everyone else?” The boy looks panicked.

“No time,” she shrieks, hearing the clock ticking inside her head, the incessant beeping that’s ringing in her ears. “Just go!”

She shoves him away, and he takes off without another word, and she glances around for a red device on the wall. _Fire alarm._

She spots one, and doubles back, reaching to break the glass and pull the handle, and that’s when the alarms go blaring, (an ear-piercing wail she immediately recognizes as a flat G5 that grates at her ears).

She takes off for the door, knowing she’ doesn’t have time, knowing she’s out of time, and she pulls out her PearPhone, glancing at the last message she sent Tori.

_Love you too._

“That’s going to have to do,” whispers to no one but herself.

Her legs strain as she pushes to the exit, now blocked by the crowd of people who have begun to flock towards the several exits.

She’s reassured knowing Beck is safe, already fleeing far away from this crowded theater in the center of her school.

But for Jade? 

She sees bronze skin, a perfect, genuine smile: perfect lips pulled back to reveal perfect teeth, silky brunette curls, doe brown eyes glimmering with hope, urging her on.

She pushes her way to the door with only a single word, a single thought in mind. 

_Tori._

* * *

“What’s wrong with you?” Trina’s home all the time for her winter break, and she bounces down the stairs in her ten-inch Fazzini boots (nothing’s changed, really).

Tori looks as if she’s in a barely-conscious state, but in reality, she’s completely fine. Just… thinking. 

“Nothing,” she brushes off the question quietly, shifting on the couch so she doesn’t have to look at her sister.

The incoming ring of the doorbell doesn’t jerk Tori from her state. 

“You get it,” she mutters to her sister.

She opens her mouth to speak because she’s usually the one telling people to get the door, but before she can argue with a half-alive Tori, she swings open the door to find Lola and Zoey.

“Hey!” Lola sticks her head in, waving to Tori, who doesn’t do as much as brighten up.

The two girls walk into the living room and sit on either side of Tori.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replies simply.

“Nothing, my ass,” Lola scoffs, gesturing to the blanket Tori is drowning in, eyes downcast.

“Language,” can be heard faintly from the pile of blankets.

Zoey sits down beside her, “Is this about Daniel?”

“Maybe,” the heap of blankets mumbles.

“Ugh,” Tori’s cousin pulls the cocoon of blankets off her, “Boys suck. I hate them.”

The forlorn half-Latina glares pointedly at her, yanking her blankets back so they cover her lap, but there’s no heat in her glare, “Says the one who’s been dating one for, like, two years.”

“Vince is different,” she argues.

“Whatever.”

“It’s not about Daniel, isn’t it?” Zoey cut in suddenly.

“What?” Tori’s looking at Zoey as if she’s grown another head.

“It’s not about Danny,” she repeats. “Well, not all of it, anyway.”

“How did you know?” Tori groans, grabbing the pillow behind her to hug.

“Well, when we mentioned Danny, you didn’t even flinch. Your mind is somewhere else, Tori. I know it when I see it,” she insists, nudging her brunette best friend for the answers.

“Ugh, you’re right,” she caves, burying her face into the pillow, groaning loudly.

“So what _else_ is on your mind?” Lola asks sharply.

“Jade,” she exhales loudly, her fae still smushed against the pillow.

“Now, who?” her cousin interrupts, brows scrunching in confusion.

“You know that girl that I’ve been dreaming about?” she lifts her head from the pillow and combs her hand through her hair. 

“Yeah…” Zoey nods slowly.

“Well,” Tori sighs, letting her hands drop and hit the pillow. “Turns out, she’s real.”

“Wait-”

“Ugh,” she groans. “I knew you guys wouldn’t believe me.”

“Tori-”

“What-”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” she face-plants back into the pillow.

“Tori!” Zoey a hand on Tori’s back comfortingly, silencing her groans. “When did we say we didn’t believe you?”

“Uh, just now,” Tori replies almost immediately.

“We didn’t. You’re seriously not okay,” Lola comments, earning a glare from Zoey.

“Whatever!” she lifts a hand to dismiss the topic.

“Anyway, I’m not done yet.” she continues, leaving her face against the pillow because chances are, she would end up face-planting against the pillow again at her friends’ remarks.

“I haven’t sw- uh, had any dreams of her in the past couple months,” she cuts herself off, knowing it’s not a good time to explain the whole swapping bodies phenomenon.

“Yeah, you’ve been a little more… you lately,” Zoey confirms. 

“But also, we’ve been texting and stuff like that, and then suddenly, she stops talking to me. Like,’ she slips out her blue PearPhone out. “It’s been two weeks and I’ve texted her every single day and she hasn’t answered me.”

“What if she just has things to do?” Lola asks.

“Ugh, you’re no help,” Tori nudges her cousin. “She wouldn’t do that. I _know_ her.”

“What did she last text you?” Zoey asks, typing in the passcode to her best friend’s phone to unlock it. 

Except it doesn’t unlock it, because the password is incorrect.

She types it in a couple more times for confirmation, then sets the PearPhone down. “You changed your passcode,” she says.

“Yeah, I did,” Tori echoes, finally sitting up, her back cracking. She blinks a few times as her eyes adjust slowly back to the light, the world zooming into focus.

“You never change your password. It’s always Avogadro’s number. 60221023,” Lola explains as if she forgot.

“Yeah, whatever, I did.” she glares at Lola.

“But you haven’t changed any of your passwords since… well, since you learned what Avogadro’s number was,” Zoey thinks aloud. “So if you changed your password, either it was something new and amazing you learned, or something really important and personal to you,” she concludes.

“Ugh, I hate how you can read my mind,” Tori groans, throwing the pillow at Zoey.

“You’re just easy to read.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Whatever, what’s your new password?”

“I’m not telling you!”

“Fine, we’ll guess,” Lola snatches the phone away, but Zoey doesn’t even protest.

“What’s one of her previous passwords?” Lola asks, mostly to herself. “Planck’s constant? Oh wait, it’s only four numbers.”

“Try NERD in numbers, that’s her lock combination,” Zoey glances at the four empty slots on the phone screen.

“Nope, doesn’t work.”

“MATH?”

“Nope.”

“What else is important to Tori and is four letters long?”

“Did you try TORI?”

“Since when would I make my name the code?” Tori snaps angrily.

“LOLA? ZOEY?” she adds, just in case.

“No!” Tori throws her hands up in exasperation.

“The first four digits of Pi? 3141? Euler’s constant? 2718?”

“Nope. And we’re locked out for a minute,” Lola chucks the PearPhone back at Tori, who fumbles with it. They sit there, waiting out the countdown now on the lock screen.

The half-Latina unlocks it quickly, leaning backward to type in the numbers secretly, and scrolls up to the last time Jade spoke. 

_Two weeks, a day, sixteen hours, and three minutes ago. Maybe she went MIA for winter break?_ But it’s been more than two weeks. She should be back at school by now. Her heart squeezes in her chest as she realizes how long she’s lived without Jade.

**_Love youuu_ **

**_Love you too_ **

_December 19, 9:24 am_

**_Good morning, how was last night?_ **

**_Jade?_ **

**_Jade_ **

**_Jade_ **

**_Jadeyyyy_ **

**_Hey, where are you?_ **

_3:02 pm_

**_Did you break your phone?_ **

**_I’ll email you_ **

_8:35 pm_

**_Okay I’m getting worried_ **

**_Hopefully you get your phone fixed_ **

**_Or charged_ **

**_Or whatever_ **

_11:11 pm_

**_Goodnight_ **

**_Love you_ **

_January 1, 12:00 am_

**Happy New Year!!**

**It’s 2013!**

**Answer me**

**Please**

**:(**

**Do you hate me**

_January 6, 7:47 am_

**_Jade…_ **

**_I’m getting worried_ **

**_Answer my email?_ **

_8:26 pm_

**_Can’t stop thinking about you_ **

_11:36 pm_

**_Goodnight, Jade_ **

_January 7, 8:45 am_

**_:(_ **

**_Good morning_ **

_11:02 pm_

**_Goodnight_ **

_January 8, 8:30 am_

**_Good morning_ **

**_What do you call a cheap circumcision hehe?_ **

**_A rip-off hahaha_ **

_11:42 pm_

**_Honestly if that joke doesn’t get you on here, I don’t know what will_ **

**_Goodnight_ **

**_Did I do something wrong?_ **

Zoey scrolls almost miles down until she can find Tori’s most recent, _good morning_ text from this morning. Her expression is mostly concern, browns scrunched over her nose, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line.

“I don’t know why she would do this,” she frowns. “Seems like you two really liked talking to each other.”

“I know,” she groans, “Why isn’t she answering now?”

“Where does she live?”

“Uh…”

“I can track the IP address from her last email,” Lola offers.

Tori just clicks open the Zmail app, scrolling to her starred conversation with Jade from the day they first met. Her heart seizes when she realizes that if her cousin scrolls up, she’ll see the stuff about switching bodies. She reaches out to take her phone back, but to her relief, the other girl doesn’t scroll up. 

Her blonde friend just looks on curiously.

A couple of minutes pass and Lola squints at the screen, “Uh… Hollywood.”

“Oh, isn’t that like literally the next city over?” Zoey wonders.

“We can go find her!” Tori jumps up, a little energized for the first time in a while.

“Ugh, another Saturday wasted,” Lola grumbles.

“You don’t have to come,” her cousin lashes at her.

“I have the car,” she reminds them, and so they pack a few necessary things, snacks, money, and a couple of extra jackets in case it gets cold.

They arrive in the city minutes later, and it occurs to Zoey, “Uh, guys, Hollywood is huge. Where are we supposed to look?”

“What school did Jade go to?” Lola pipes in, running her fingers through the streaks in her hair. It reminds Tori of the thespian for a second, and she closes her eyes as her heart skips a beat, as it usually does. 

“It’s a Saturday. They won’t even be there.”

“The staff might be working,” the blonde ventures.

“Fine,” Tori sighs, “She goes to… uh.”

“You _forgot_?”

“Yes, okay? I don’t know if she even told me!”

“Ugh,” Lola climbs out of the car, which is parked in a library parking lot. “Let’s go.”

They search in the library, unsure of where to even start before Tori realizes she has her drawings. She squints at the shape of the buildings; it feels so _familiar_ but she’s not able to remember the name of the school.

She waves them at her friends, who glance at it cluelessly, “Did you draw these?”

“Y-” She stops herself before she has to explain how she even knows how to draw them, “Nah, she sent them to me.”

“So no pictures?”

“Nope.”

“Sigh.”

“Wait, so this Jade girl…”

She’s about to ask how Zoey knows her name but then remembers they scrolled through her embarrassingly cheesy text conversations.

“What?” she asks warily.

“So _are_ you in love with her?” It’s asked quietly.

“No!” she yelps instantly, receiving a shush from the librarian and a couple of other people. “I’ve never even met her!”

“Wait, then how did you get her email and number?”

“Uh…”

“Please don’t tell me you hunted for her online or got your dad or something to find her.”

“I, uh…” She doesn’t know how to explain, so she just sits there stammering like an idiot.

“Oh my God, Tori. You-”

“Shut up!” she smacks her cousin's arm, her loud yelp earning her another _shhhhhhh_ and glare from the librarian. “Let’s just go,” she adds in a quieter voice.

Lola just snatches up the drawings, trotting up to the desk, where she shows the librarian the pictures.

Tori’s out of earshot, but she can see her cousin’s lips moving quickly, her eyes taking on a sad puppy look as she questions about the place in the drawings. She holds back a laugh; she’s never been the actor between the two of them. This only makes her think of the gothic thespian she’s come to miss, the girl they’re literally throwing away the day to look for.

Her heart seizes; she’s expecting it, but her hand flies to her chest anyway, feeling her heart stutter just a bit.

Lola returns with no information, and so they head off, wandering the streets of Hollywood for a few blocks, asking everyone if they know the school in the pictures. They’re met with shrugs and shaking heads, so they climb back into the car to drive around a bit, reasoning that they’re in the wrong part of the city.

The Hollywood sign comes into view, and Tori grins at the sight of it. She’s always lived close to it, but she’s rarely seen it. Despite having such a close house in Sherwood, it had been built on a hill where the iconic sign wasn’t visible.

They climb out of the car after a few minutes, wandering a radius of several blocks from the parked car; they’re still met by more clueless people, and Tori’s ready to crumble to the ground and maybe strike it with her fists in disappointment and frustration.

It’s lunchtime, and they’re getting hungry, so they check PearMaps for a restaurant, where they find Nozu, a sushi place about ten minutes away from where they are.

Tori glances around at the bright pink… well, everything; she’s unsure if she recognizes it or not. _Maybe this is a place Jade frequents…_

She doesn’t remember much or anything about this, and she just slumps, defeated in her barstool, papers wrinkled and sprawled out in front of her.

The waiter serves them a few minutes after they order, and Tori can feel a weird sense of familiarity.

_Maybe this is the right place?_

The three girls slowly finish their Japanese meals, Lola sucking down the last of her Tonkatsu broth, Tori and Zoey finishing up the last of the food on their plates.

They’re still nowhere.

Tori’s cousin is now grumbling about being exhausted, and she doesn’t have the heart to fight back; she’s exhausted of it as well, and she glances at her sketches one last time, ready to stuff them back in her backpack.

“Hey, is that Hollywood Arts?” a lady with a vague Chinese accent is peering over her shoulder, and she jumps.

“What?” She exchanges a hopeful glance with her companions.

The woman sighs, “Hollywood Arts. The arts school a block that way? The drawings are very correct. It looks exactly like it, well before they did a little reconstructing. It was terrible. There was a bombing!”

“Really,” she murmurs, handing a sheet of paper to the Asian lady when she reaches for it.

“Ya,” she analyzes it carefully, lifting her hands to allow the sleeves of her kimono to fall back a bit, “My daughter auditioned. She didn’t get in. They said she was talentless and irritating.”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she chuckles nervously, taking her sketch back. “Uh, are you Japanese?”

“No, I am Chinese,” she corrects.

“Then why do you work in a Japanese restaurant?”

“My Chinese restaurant burned down,” she tells them casually, “So I am here now.”

“Huh.”

“So,” the allegedly Chinese woman clasps her hands together, “Hollywood Arts. You girls go there?”

Three heads shake from side to side vigorously, “Uh, no. But we know someone who does.”

“Ah, they have acting workshop today. My daughter is there. So school is open if you want to go.”

Tori nods at the other two girls, and she thanks the woman who says her name is Mrs. Lee.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lee,” she grins, voice full of gratitude. She even tips extra, and they climb in the car, following the woman’s directions.

In just a couple minutes they pull into the parking lot in the back of the school, finding an empty parking space. It’s evident a lot of students are there; the lot, while small, is almost completely full.

Lola twists the keys out of the ignition after putting the car in park, ready to climb out, but Tori stops her.

She inhales shakily, “You guys go home. I’ll be fine.”

“What?” “No!” Comes the simultaneous replies.

She just hesitates, her hand, frozen on the door of the car.

“I’ll go check out the acting workshop,” Lola offers.

“No, it’s fine. Just… come,” she wrenches open the door, feeling like she’s suffocating in the tiny car.

She’s met with the Asphalt Cafe; it’s so achingly familiar— and not just from coming with Trina several times— she stops to stare at it. It’s lunchtime; students are crowded at the tables that fill the asphalt, a short line in front of the Grub Truck.

They look around for that familiar face, for _Jade_ , but she’s nowhere to be seen. So they head inside, checking the lockers, and Tori freezes when she sees Jade’s locker.

But… it’s _not_ her locker. It’s been replaced by a dull gray door, as many of the other doors have. Only a little over half the metal doors are covered in unique art.

“What?” her voice falters, and she walks up to it, twisting the dial accordingly. 5-22-3. JADE, just like the password on Jade’s phone and just about everything else, just like the password now on her own phone.

It swings open when she lifts the metal latch, pulling it outward.

Nothing.

She’s utterly confused, and on the verge of a breakdown when a hand touches her shoulder. She whirls around to find her friends, a little confused.

“Is that her locker?”

She nods slowly, “I think so. I, uh, I unlocked it.”

She closes it, unlocking it one more time to make sure she didn’t coincidentally guess the combination right. 

It unlocks, just as it did before.

“Hey, new student?” a deep voice sounds from next to her ear, and her heart drops even before whe whirls to face the familiar figure.

She shakes her head slowly, eyes narrowed, “ _Beck_?”

He tips his head, “How do you know my name?”

“I-I’m a friend of Jade’s,” she answers quietly.

His eyes light up in understanding and something else unidentifiable, and she squints in confusion. _Does he know Jade and I switched bodies?_

“Tori?” He asks incredulously.

“Wait, how do you know?”

He sighs sadly, “Jade didn’t have many other friends.”

“Didn-”

“Can I talk to you alone?” He interrupts, eyes flickering from Zoey to Lola, who just looks utterly bewildered.

“Yeah, sure,” she replies slowly, letting herself be led to the Janitor’s closet, the very one she and Beck had spoken on the first day they had swapped.

“What are you doing here?” he wonders aloud, his gaze stricken.

“I’m just looking for Jade,” she replies confusedly, frowning when his expression crumples. “She hasn’t responded to my texts in weeks.”

“You won’t be able to find her,” he says quietly.

“Did she leave?”

He nods, his eyes wet, and she frowns. “Wait-”

“Tori, just don’t,” he looks defeated. “She’s gone, okay?”

The first thought that comes to her mind is that Jade’s dead by the way he says it, but she’s almost sure she’s not because they had texted just before Winter Break.

“But she texted me-”

“But that’s not possible.”

“Beck, do you know how we… uh…”

“Switched bodies? Yup.”

“Oh, so she told you.”

He nods, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair.

“We suddenly stopped switching on the Thursday before The Big Showcase. And she won’t answer my texts. So I decided to come and find her.”

“Tori,” he stops her, his breaths shaking, “The last Big Showcase she was in was three years ago.”

She pauses, her heart thumping, that sense of loss growing stronger with every second, “What do you mean?”

He just slinks out of the closet, “Follow me.” His voice is sad.

She does, albeit still disoriented. She gestures for her two companions to come with her.

After a few turns in the oh-so-familiar hallways, the foursome finds themselves in the principal’s office.

“Hey, uh Helen,” Beck waves his fingers a little awkwardly.

The black woman sitting at the desk looks up, a huge bun on the top of her head, eyes wide, “Why hello, Beck! What do you need?”

He nods at her greeting, “Can I look at the,” he swallows, “book?”

Her expression falls at that, nodding towards a neatly bound book that sits in the corner of a shelf.

The actor pulls it out, wiping his hand across the to rid of any dust on it. He hands it to Tori, his arm shaking a little.

“Can you kids look at it outside? I have a meeting in a minute. Just return it quietly when you kids are finished with it,” Principal Helen says breezily.

They shut the door behind them as they exist stealthily, finding a place to look at it.

“So, what is it?” Lola pipes up, glancing over at the cover.

“Read it,” Beck mutters, his voice monotonous, depressed.

Her eyes scan the words on the cover page, “It’s the fatalities from… the bombing?” Something strikes her, and she remembers the time she looked up Jade West, finding an erotica author and… a list of… deaths. She feels sick. She glances at Beck questioningly, but he averts her gaze, gesturing for her to open it.

In the book is a list of hundreds of names, each given their own page and a picture. “What-”

She flips rapidly to the end, the thin pages of the book almost tearing under her frantic hands.

She pauses when she reaches the W last names, her breath coming in rapid, shaky pants, and she’s not sure she can stand to read it.

“Oh my God,” Zoey breathes, realization alight in her eyes.

Tori’s almost crying at the implication; she’s flipping through the W category now, going past Wade, then Wagner, then Weatherall, and then there she is.

 _Jadelyn August West_ _  
__Freshman_

It goes on to list her achievements and the quote that was supposed to be on the yearbook that year. And then, her picture.

She looked so achingly familiar, so real, and she reached out to brush her fingers across the paper, running her fingers lightly across the pale face she’d gotten used to seeing in the mirror several times a week, for months.

She looks up at Beck, bewilderment clear in her chocolate brown eyes, a clear question.

“What happened?”

He doesn’t answer, and Tori leaps up from her spot on the ground to grab him by the collar, shaking him in her hands, “What happened to her?” Her breaths come in quick pants, and she flings off the comforting hands on her back from her friends, “Tell me. Tell me!” Her voice rises to a guttural shriek, voice cracking with pain, “Tell me! Tell me what happened to her!”

She slumps against Beck, his arms under hers the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor. 

He begins to speak, his eyes glimmering not only with the old wound that had been drawn to the surface but for the fresh wound he knew had just been carved into the young girl’s heart.

Lola and Zoey back away respectfully, stepping outside, knowing it’s a private conversation, something they shouldn’t hear.

“There was a bombing. At the Big Showcase. She-” His voice breaks, and she steps back, for the first time acknowledging the pain he feels as well. “I broke up with her just hours before because- because of _you_ , or I don’t know, she was super distracted all the time, but she was _happy_ and I was happy for her, but I soon realized it wasn’t me that was making her happy. 

“It was like she was seeing someone else, and that person rounded all those rough edges, and I was with her for a year at that point almost, and had always been that endearingly snappy, rebellious, rude, inconsiderate girl… and one day, it just… changed.”

She frowns, “What if it wasn’t me? I mean, what if it was just me in her body being nice?”

“It definitely was you that changed her. It wasn’t you switching because it was progressive. Like, anyone could see that something was different in her every single day. And it was you. She would light up like a Christmas tree every time you texted her.” He chuckles. It’s a little bitter but mostly nostalgic.

“Oh.” Her voice is small.

“Yeah, anyway, uh, we went here that night, to perform, and she was so happy. A little upset that we had broken up, but she looked happier than I’d ever seen her, on her phone. Anyway, I think she went to change, but a few minutes later she sprinted at me, yelling at me to get out. She said there was a bomb, so I ran. I didn’t realize she had gone back to pull the fire alarm.”

Tori inhales sharply, realizing where the story is going, “That was probably my fault,” she murmurs glumly, “I was always trying to be an influence on her, being three years older and stuff… or so I thought? That backfired.”

He shakes his head fondly, “No, she saved so many more people, though. The fire alarm went off and everyone started screaming and running for the exit. It was so chaotic, but I was long gone by then, way in the Asphalt Cafe praying to this… God I don’t even believe in…” 

He stops to take a breath, and she glances up to see his eyes glossy with water, filled to the brim with tears, and he tips his head back in a futile attempt to not let them flow. Tori is crying openly now, sniffling through her stuffed nose, running a sleeve under her eyes every once in a while.

“And we were all huddled and then-” His voice gives out, and she places a hand on his arm.”And then, we hear this loud explosion, and I look up to see this whole fiery thing, and this whole smoke thing that erupted.” He chuckles again, “It was like a scene from a movie… or some dream I'd wake up from..."

“I saw some people who didn’t make it far enough fall, and I can’t- I can’t forget the screams. It sounds so cliche horror movie, but it’s literally that. And so we gathered together all the people who made it out in the Asphalt Cafe. Those who didn’t run home, at least.” He combs his hand through his long hair with a sigh, “There were only, maybe thirty or forty of us? Most people didn’t make it out. But thanks to Jade, so many people did…”

She doesn’t want to ask the final question although she already knows the answer. She knows what he’s going to say because she’s seen it for herself, in the list of casualties, in his eyes, the hole in her heart. It would explain why they haven’t switched for weeks.

“But Jade didn’t?” It’s a mere whisper, almost as if it were any louder, everyone would be able to hear her.

“But Jade didn’t,” Beck confirms what she already knows, but it’s so astonishingly dreadful to hear the words aloud, from someone’s mouth she feels like the vice grip on her heart has only tightened, and her chest convulses as a sob bursts from her lips.

Her entire world comes crashing down in shattered fragments, like glass raining down on the floor. It feels like some of the shards ricochet and bury themselves in her skin, and she hears a dull melody in her ears, the pounding of her heart resonating through her body serving as an adequate beat.

_You were the one that got away…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys all for your comments and kudos. it means the world to us :)
> 
> <3


	9. December 18th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise, the time skip isn’t weird. half of chapter 7 (tori’s pov) is on this date as well, though it isn’t mentioned.
> 
> major trigger warning: self-harm… like a decent amount. PLEASE read at your own risk and take care of yourself. Don’t worry; there will be markers that indicate when it starts and ends. The chapter summary will be at the end notes, so you don’t miss much.
> 
> **okay, edit, from about half a year later... about that up there^^ i seriously apologize for this chapter. i wrote it at maybe 2-3am and i don't know what came over me- but it's stupid and unrealistic and i could've easily done anything else, but i didn't. so this is my written promise that i will rewrite this chapter, if not the entire story someday. I'm so so sorry for this chapter- and for those who haven't read it, i suggest skipping that part whether it triggers you or not.**

“Th-that’s not possible,” she blurts, her hands finding her head, her feet pacing the floor although her knees are all ready to give out. She says this knowing it’s completely possible, knowing it’s real, knowing it’s true.

“What do you mean?”

“I was texting her. She texted me,” she fumbles for her PearPhone, finding it in her back pocket. Her shaky fingers almost drop it, and she has to rely on Face ID to unlock it for her because she couldn’t enter the passcode— Jade, 5233 because _goddammit,_ everything is Jade, everything was Jade— even if she tries. “I emailed her. I texted her just before the Big Showcase. Just before- Before the showcase, she texted me. She sent me pictures. And videos.”

“Tori, calm down,” Beck reaches out to stop her pacing, and she sinks to the floor, her legs too weak to support her weight. He sits next to her.

“I-I-I… But I did! See? It’s right here!” She goes to the Zmail app, clicking their email thread. 

It’s empty.

“W-what?”

She clicks out, opening the PearMessages app, tapping Jade’s contact, but the letters begin to glitch right before her eyes. They change to symbols and numbers, flashing, then disappearing altogether, until there are _those three words_ left, just for a split second, before they blink out of existence as well. 

“W-wha-” So she sends a message, tapping out a simple _Hey_ on the blank conversation, but the moment it sends, a red exclamation mark pops up next to it. It doesn’t go through. She stares at the tiny symbol incredulously, her heart pounding mercilessly against her temple, her breathing quick, too quick, and the walls seem to close in around her, and there’s red. All she can see is red, _so much red,_ and the words _Not Delivered_ burn into her cornea, and she blinks several times, lifting her head.

“I-I don’t understand,” she manages. 

She’s about to click on Jade’s info just to _prove_ she exists, but the app crashes on her, sending her back to the home screen with a flash, and by the time she opens the app again, Jade’s gone. The contact. 

Gone.

Blinked out of existence.

Deleted.

Without a trace.

Erased.

 _Dead_.

She’s sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming from two trails down her cheeks, where they merge at her chin, running off her face, soaking her shirt. 

“W-was I-I just dreaming? Am I d-delusional?” 

Her chest burns, and she reaches into her shirt, yanking out the necklace, pulling it over her head, clutching it in her palm.

It sears her hand; it burns, scorching hot, and she allows it to clatter to the floor, gazing at her unmarked, open hand. 

“Tori,” the boy whispers, pulling the broken girl into his arms although he doesn’t know her. She leans into his embrace, recognizing the feeling of being held by Beck. It’s familiar, too familiar.

She tears herself away; it’s too much to bear.

“No, no, no,” she sobs, her voice growing in volume, “How? No! I was texting her. It doesn’t make sense! She has to be… She can’t be- She can’t… No!” She gazes numbly at her toes, the necklace on the floor beside her, the collar of her shirt soaked in tears.

The two sit there in silence, and that’s when Lola and Zoey return, silent, gazing at their stricken friend with pain in their eyes.

The half-Latina lets herself cry, her just heaving, shoulders shaking, throat constricting, hiccuping as tears continue to pour down her face, trickling into her mouth and leaving a bitter salt on her tongue.

She’s quivering hard, and she backs herself against a wall so she doesn’t collapse, clutching her knees to her chest, burying her face between them, her arms shielding her from everyone else.

The only reason she stops crying is because she’s exhausted. She’s cried herself dry, and she’s too fatigued to even muster another sob.

“Am I crazy?” she whispers, mostly to herself.

She just gazes blankly at the necklace on the ground.

She remembers that girl, claiming to know her, and looking devastated when she didn’t. She remembers catching the necklace in her palms, watching the girl slip into the crowd of students and then disappear into the street.

She’s about to grab the necklace when it’s swept up in a large hand.

“That was Jade’s.” It’s not a question.

He nods, “Did she try to find you?”

She shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know. I got it three years ago.”

“That… that doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” she whispers, her shoulders sinking, her back hunching over.

She curses herself for getting so attached, for allowing herself to be swept up in the thrill of swapping bodies with a stranger. For relying on the other girl so quickly, depending on their texts to get her through the day. For trusting her to stay, for saying that she loved her so early on.

And now she’s allowed her heart to be shattered, again. Only this time, it’s more than a little crack that can be fixed in no time. It’s more than just a small break, a chip. It’s as if someone took a hammer and smashed a porcelain bowl into bits, stomping on it to make sure it’s unfixable.

That’s what she feels like now.

The analogy only reminds her of Jade, the girl with porcelain skin whose favorite toy growing up was a hammer.

She would be crying if she had any energy left.

She hands the book back to Beck, who slips the necklace back around her throat, and wordlessly, the three girls make it back to Lola’s car, Tori stumbling along behind them. Her feet drag on the asphalt. She feels the chain choking her, tight around her throat, although she can see that it’s resting loosely around her neck.

She slips her fingers between the chain and her neck, feeling like she’s slipping her fingers in between a noose and her neck.

She gasps for air.

She sinks into the backseat, her cheeks wet again, her eyes blinking slowly, hazily, as tears make its way down her face. She doesn’t have the power to stop them, or even sob.

The entire way home, she trembles, crying soundlessly, her jaws parted in a silent cry of agony no one hears.

She racks her exhausted brain, trying to remember the digits of Jade’s phone number she had committed to memory not even a week ago, the letters that make up her email, anything. She comes up blank, remembering absolutely nothing.

Her mind wanders to those ocean eyes, but _wait, what color were they?_ Are- were they blue, like a swimming pool, or greener, like the ocean. Were they warm and soulful, or were they cold and aloof?

She searches her brain for answers, fingernails digging into her skull, hands tearing at her hair. Her fingers close into fists and her toes curl so tightly they cramp. She has nothing. Nothing.

Blank.

Because she’s slipping away. Jade is slipping away.

_What’s her last name again?_

Her jaws part in an agonized wail, her fingers scratching at the sheets she white-knuckling, trying to do something, _anything_ , that will help her remember more than just _Jade._

There’s a hole in her chest where her heart should be.

As she dozes off into a restless, nightmare-filled sleep, she wonders where she left it.

***

She wakes up in tears.

Her eyelids are so swollen it’s uncomfortable to open her eyes, and she lets herself cry into her pillow, tears soaking into the pillowcase, chest heaving with sobs that leave her exhausted.

Her hair is a mess, and she notices a few marks in her palm, some deep enough to have dried blood crusting around the cuts. Some of her fingernails have a hint of crimson.

She pulls the circular charm out from under her shirt, gazing at it like it’s the only thing she has left because it might as well be the only thing she has to remind her of Jade. She doesn’t remove the chain from her neck; she cannot bring herself to detach the only memory left of Jade from her body, so she runs a thumb across the cold surface, rubbing it until it’s burning in her grasp.

She doesn’t get out of bed. It’s Sunday anyway. She really has nothing to do. So she shifts a few feet to close her blackout curtains, and darkness swallows the room.

Her eyes find the stars on her ceiling, glowing a pale green, which again, reminds her of Jade.

_Why? Was it her eyes? Her clothes? Her hair?_

She doesn’t know and it tears the hole in her chest bigger, until it’s gaping to the sky, tissue bloody and torn, far beyond fixing.

For the next few hours (days?) she drifts in and out of fits of restless sleep, waking up to a dark room where her eyes never have to adjust to light, eyes already soaked with tears the second the excruciating pain rushes back to her. When she doesn’t wake up of her own accord, her eyes snap open when images of fire and smoke flood her brain. Fear pulses through her, and for a second, her heart pulses heavily in her chest, reminding her that she’s alive, that Jade isn’t.

She’s breathing, her heart’s pounding, her eyes are blinking, and her body’s warm, while Jade is dead, unmoving, unbreathing, eyes closed for eternity, body stone-cold, her heart never to beat again.

She doesn’t know how it’s possible, but the thought rips a fresh wound in her soul, and she musters a weak croak when it sinks in.

Her mom comes in with food, and she’ll take a bite or two. She lets herself be wrapped in arms, and allows comforting words to be whispered to her. She doesn’t hear any of it, not over the dull thump of her own heartbeat in her ears.

She’s forced to go to school, and she barely pulls through each day, keeping an unnatural faux smile plastered on her cheeks until her face aches, and her cheeks are exhausted.

She scribbles in work and homework indifferently, her handwriting a mess, a jumble of graphite that’s borderline illegible. Any writing is done carelessly, her fingers weak on the keys of her Monobook, letting spellcheck and the grammar checker fix her mistakes for her.

As the rest of her memory slips away, so does her motivation, her will to live.

She wakes up one day, not knowing why she’s hurting, wondering why her chest feels like it’s been struck by lightning and stomped on, questioning why her eyes are swollen and her cheeks are wet.

She doesn’t remember the cause of her pain, but she lets it destroy her from the inside. She eats when told to, drinks when reminded, slumping under her covers the moment her homework is done.

 _I’ve never procrastinated this little,_ she thinks bitterly when she shoves her hastily finished work into her backpack.

She slips under her covers then, shutting her blinds, allowing the darkness to swamp her vision, the only light the stars on her ceiling. A couple fall, but she leaves them on her floor.

She's reminded of that one song. The one that goes, _if the water dries up and the moon stops shining, stars fall, and the world goes blind, you know I'll be saving my love for you, for you._

And it's stupid. So, so stupid that she bursts into tears once more at the mere thought of it.

Because the stars have fallen and she feels like she's got no love left to give.

She doesn’t shower for days, only stepping under the showerhead when she’s coaxed by her mother. She can hardly make out the words her family tells her. She’s too busy listening to the beat in her chest, the crackle of flames raking through her lungs until she feels like her chest is burning up. 

Every breath she takes is a struggle, every movement she makes is a fight, every day she gets out of bed in the morning is a battle, every day she makes it through is a war.

She goes to sleep and wakes up just as exhausted, the singing of her sister in the mornings doing nothing to irritate her.

She can hardly hear it anyway.

Trina is there in the morning, to take her to school, and home at night when she arrives home from college. On weekends, the older Vega is never home, and neither are their parents.

Sometimes, Zoey and Lola come over, and they try to get her out of the house, flashing each other concerned glances that Tori’s dull eyes never miss.

She makes excuses to skip school, faking sick, refusing to get in the car. No one cares, she thinks. Her friends are there to drop off the work she’s not there to pick up, and half of it ends up in her paper shredder, or fall victims to the scissors she keeps on her nightstand.

It soothes the pain in her body just for a bit. Scissors.

There’s something satisfying about destroying with the blades. Maybe it’s the snip of the metal sliding together, the whistle of the blades in the air… 

Black coffee without sugar or cream takes her mind off the numbing agony sometimes. She lets it scald her tongue, knowing the physical pain will never compare to the war she’s fighting inside. She relishes the bitter taste, loving the way it makes her want to gag. But other than that, it calms her down. It douses the flames and allows her to breathe normally for a moment or two.

The days bleed into nights, and the weeks bleed into months. Every day is the same, filled with an effort to even climb out of bed, her only goal to make it through the day. It’s dull, repetitive, and nothing changes.

The pain doesn’t worsen; it fluctuates. 

On particularly better days, she’ll find herself climbing out of bed with only a small inward groan of resistance. On these days, she sits on her dusty windowsill, letting her legs dangle over her front yard. The view of the street is shrouded by a tall tree that only sometimes allows the sun to reach her window.

She’ll climb out of the window, take the small leap that it takes to be standing on a branch that juts out particularly close to her bedroom window. She walks across it like a tightrope walker, one foot in front of the other, until her outstretched hands find the trunk.

She doesn’t imagine what it would be like to fall. She just knows she probably won’t mind very much.

Some days, it’ll get so bad, all she can do is cry through the night, her fingers trembling as she fights not to make a grab for her pair of scissors that sit tauntingly on her nightstand. These days, she stares numbly at nothing, wondering if she’s going to make it through the rest of the day.

But most days, the pain is constant. A dull, aching throb that worsens whenever she acknowledges it.

It aches in her chest, the gaping hole in her heart probably infected to the point of no feeling. Sometimes, she’ll clutch the round charm that dangles from the chain around her neck, and it gives her a second of solace, where maybe a genuine smile will ghost her lips for no more than a fleeting second.

But the pain always returns, and she welcomes it.

Some days, she wakes up to her alarm, calm and cold, stiff and silent. She moves like a robot, some lifeless machine that’s programmed to do what it needs to do. 

Some days, she’ll wake with a jolt, her jaw dropped in a soundless scream, her eyes burning with tears that might as well be acid, her throat shutting as her lungs set ablaze. 

These are days when she struggles through the simplest tasks, gripping the sheets with white fists. These are the days when simply digging her nails into her palms isn’t enough, where burning off her taste buds with bitter coffee isn’t enough, where standing under scalding water that can only be so hot isn’t enough.

**———trigger warning———**

These are the days she takes it upon herself to inflict physical pain intentionally to take her mind off everything else. 

These are the days she’ll glance at the scissors longingly, then give in to the monster growing inside over her. 

These are the days she’ll run the blade across her unmarked wrists, first softly. She shivers at the cold touch, feeling the way the sharp blade tugs at her delicate skin, but doesn’t cut through.

A lot of the time, she’ll just press the blade to her throat, flinching against the cold titanium-alloyed blades, wondering what it would feel like to cut deep and let the blood flow out more than it already has. A shudder rips through her body with the knowledge a single movement could send her life flooding out of her.

Most of the time, though, she doesn’t. She puts the blades back onto her nightstand, or sometimes, she’ll grip the metal in a closed fist until it is no longer cool. 

Some days, she’ll allow the metal to break skin. She’ll allow the sharp point to cut right through the skin, and it’ll sting, sure, but it comes with a temporary relief that has her closing her eyes with pleasure, even when she’s gasping in pain. On worse days, she’ll do more than pierce the skin at a single point. She’ll let the razor-sharp edge slice a straight line on her forearm, watching with satisfaction the droplets of blood that well up and slip down her arm.

With the crimson droplets that flow until they reach the crook of her arm, she imagines the life bleeding out of her, the pain leaving her body. 

It works, only for a short moment, and the darkness and pain will return. It always does. She’ll step into the shower after she cuts, watching the scarlet swirl down the drain. Her tears mix with the water that mixes with the blood. Red drips from her body and down into the drain, and when the water finally runs clear, she’ll step out and slip on her pajamas.

Sometimes she’ll wake up the next morning, her sleeve drenched with blood, and she’ll spend hours at the sink scrubbing it out, until her knuckles are just as raw as her wrists. She scrubs it with soap and water, allowing herself to believe she’s washing the guilt and the pain along with it.

The air reeks of rust, and she gags as it floods her senses, coating her tongue and the roof of her mouth, getting caught in her nostrils.

When the water runs clear in the sink, she throws the soaked article of clothing into the laundry basket and wraps her arms up in bandages.

She knows she shouldn’t be harming herself. She knows it’s killing her, becoming her only lifeline. She knows it’s bad, that it’s unhealthy, and so on days it gets bad, she’ll wrap her scarred forearms in layers of plastic wrap, hating the way her skin sweats against it. But it helps, just a little bit.

 _It’s punishment_ , she’ll tell herself simply on those days, _There are consequences for your actions._

On some of these days, she’ll resort to her thighs, where scars are so much easier to hide, where there’s more room to cut and bleed and scar.

She’ll wake up with her pajama pants soaked in red and brown, and she’ll wonder if it’s from her cuts, or because her period has started for the month. She’s not even sure she still has her period, with the little food she’s been eating, with all the weight she’s lost.

Sure, her parents make sure she’s eating, but half the time, she finds herself hunched over the porcelain bowl, coughing up bits of her lunch. She’ll press the cold surface to her cheek, and when her stomach lurches, she’ll lift her head just enough to let the remnants of her meal spill into the bowl, splashing and mixing with the water. 

She’ll flush it down, watching the water swirl clockwise down the hole in the bottom. It all disappears anyway. Out of sight, out of mind.

Tori doesn’t know how Trina and her parents don’t notice. Or how Zoey and Lola don’t either. She hides it well, she muses. She does a good job of keeping her wrists covered at all times, making sure to wear a jacket and long-sleeved shirts and pants, even when Los Angeles is struck with a heatwave several times throughout the fading winter and spring.

She keeps the scissors clean. She washes and dries it, clearing all traces of her blood from the metal. She keeps an eye out for rust. Because if that gets into her blood… well, she’s dead.

And maybe she doesn’t want to die, she thinks to herself one particularly bad day. 

_But if that’s the easiest way out, I might want to take it. The coward’s way out._

She’s a month from graduation. From graduating high school, about four months from heading off to college.

Her applications had been perfectly written. She’d written them way before all of this had happened, early enough to leave her words untainted by agony.

She gets plenty of acceptance letters. None to the prestigious schools, of course. She’s simply not _good enough._

When they arrive in the mail, she throws them on her desk, unopened. It’s only at the urging of her mother she reads them.

The papers remain, scrambled, on her desk.

At some point, she stops caring. Her grades fall slowly and steadily, dipping below the threshold an A. She doesn’t so much as flinch. She makes excuses to ditch, faking sick more often, but it’s not hard when most days, she doesn’t have the energy to even blink open her eyes.

Her friends try to persuade her to see the school counselor, her parents want her to see a psychiatrist, so she brightens the fake smiles, brightens her dull eyes. It works.

 _I could be an actor,_ she thinks at some point.

She cries less, sleeps more. Sometimes for close to fifteen hours a day. The other times, she keeps her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep, hoping to fall asleep because when she does, it’s so much easier. 

She likes to think pretending gets her there, but her mind is active and alert, albeit sluggish from malnutrition, and all she can see are pictures of explosion and fire and some girl, smeared with blood, head lolling at an unnatural angle, body stiff and so, so cold. The dead girl’s eyes are colder. Lifeless.

She’ll snap her eyes open then, her chest rattling as she strains to breathe.

She doesn’t bother to head downstairs for dinner; her family doesn’t force her. She throws up more of her food. Not because she wants to, but because she finds it hard to keep it down. 

Her password is 5-2-3-3 and she doesn’t remember why, only that she changed it after having Avogadro's Constant for a long time. She tries to find the word it spells, but comes up with nothing; she doesn’t have the energy to try more than a few times anyway.

For days and weeks and months, she only leaves her room when necessary, covering up the skin that’s marred by scars, some of which fade, some of which stay. They’re ugly. She tells herself she deserves it.

She opens up the closed wounds, slicing open the marks, some dark, some light, the remains of skin that were once split apart. They stand out on her skin either way.

Tori doesn’t know what day it is when she wakes up, shaking, tears streaming like blood from her bloodshot eyes. She sees explosions and fire and smoke and hears screams and the irritating, dissonant blare of a fire alarm. She starts awake with a scream of her own lodged in her throat, stuck in her voice box. Moisture floods down her face, and her nose clogs, and her shirt soaks slowly in the water, and she doesn’t realize what she’s doing until she feels a sting on her wrist when a salty tear touches ravaged skin.

She lets out a sharp hiss of pain, blinking her eyes open to see what she’s done. Her chest convulses, her face contorting in torment as she continues to weep, her shoulders shaking so hard she almost falls over. Thin, crimson lines are lacerated across both forearms, and after a few minutes, she’s incapable of feeling the pain she’s inflicting upon herself.

The next time she looks down again, her palms are slick with blood, some rolling off her fingers and into her long and unkempt fingernails. She hates the way the warm liquid runs into the creases on the other side of her elbow, how the droplets tickle her skin when they fall.

 _I went too far,_ she realizes, when a wave of black washes over her vision. She hears her heart, loud and clear in her ears, but it gets quieter until she can hear her own breathing, her own sobs. She drops the blood-coated scissors with a whimper, not knowing why she’s done this.

Tori doesn’t know why she’s harming herself, why she wants to feel the pain, why she _needs_ to feel the pain, why she _is_ feeling pain. Wasn’t she happy just months ago?

_What happened to me?_

What had happened to happy Tori, giddy Tori, the Tori who always went to school with a real smile and an intent to make some friends, the Tori who was nerdy and dorky and clumsy and giggly?

Darkness sweeps across her vision once again, and she finds herself slumped back against the headboard, her spine resting painfully on the hardwood.

In another few minutes, she’s on her back, eyes fixed on the few glow-in-the-dark stars that remain on her ceiling, but she doesn’t know if they’re glowing anymore.

_Have they finally stopped? Are they done? Am I done?_

A star falls from the ceiling. This one is the largest one, and it lands on her forehead, the plastic sticking to the thin sheen of sweat over her skin. When she lifts her head up groggily, the are those familiar words, scrawled in her handwriting, at the center of her ceiling. _Vega,_ it reads, with an arrow next to it, but it points to nothing. Blank space. 

Another wave, and the room darkens around her. It’s a little comforting, how her arms burn, but she can hardly feel them. Soft tides wash over her, each building on top of the last.

White becomes silver becomes gray becomes soot becomes black. Wave upon wave, and slowly the world slips from her grasp.

She stops shaking, her body stilling, her breathing easing, and there’s nothing. The remaining beads of moisture fall from her eyes, landing on the pillow next to her, soaking into the case.

The flames finally die down, and a sudden calm sweeps over her as the final wave, looming and towering high above her comes crashing down; it doesn’t shatter her like the suspects it would. It’s gentle, they say it sweeps over her body until she’s drowned in this darkness she’ll never break through.

The sun had burned out a long time ago. 

The moon’s light finally disappears along with it.

It’s the stars’ turn to blink out.

The world disappears from under her.

  
  
  
  
  


**———sensitive topics are over———**

***

The first thing she’s aware of is that there’s a bright light on the other side of her eyelids.

She doesn’t want to open her eyes, so she lets herself feel, immediately hating how the bed under her is not her own.

She wiggles her fingers, her arms feeling stiff, and when she twitches them just a bit, she realizes that there’s something wrapped around her forearms. 

In her half-awake state, she’s not completely sure what it is, and she fidgets, instantly taking note of the scratchy hospital gown- _wait, hospital gown?_

She opens her eyes warily, her eyelids flying shut after a fleeting glance at the bright light.

“Ugh, someone turn that off,” she tries to say, but her voice is barely a croak.

“We can’t exactly turn off the sun,” an unfamiliar male voice comments, clearly amused, “A lot of people would be mad at that.”

She squints at the source of the voice, and she yelps when she catches sight of a short man at the foot of her bed, maybe three or four feet tall. She’s never seen him before.

“ _Ooh_ , someone’s a _little_ jumpy.”

“Who are you?” she glares at him, “And why am I here?”

He gives her a warm grin, turning his palms up as he begins to explain, “The name’s Mitch.”

“Y-you better get out of here o-or I’ll call the n-nurse,” she stammers.

He plops on the chair situated next to the bed, his legs kicking as they dangle across the floor.

“ _Come on_ , you don’t wanna call the nurse on your angel.”

“I mean it!” her voice wavers, and she lifts up an arm, immediately letting it drop with a wince when the IV tugs. “Y-you better leave. My dad’s a cop!”

“Tori, Tori, Tori,” Mitch is amused, “Relax.”

“H-how do you- how do you know my name?”

“I told you,” he gives her a little shrug, but with his tiny body, it’s almost microscopic, “I’m an angel. I’m here to earn my wings.”

She scoffs disbelievingly, “An angel? So you’re like… magical?”

“On a good day,” he huffs.

“Okay, prove it,” she challenges, “Prove you’re magical.”

“Alright,” he jumps off the chair and waddles forward a couple steps, rolling his shoulders as if loosening his muscles.

He pulls out a deck of cards, “Pick a card.”

She looks incredulously at him, a laugh stuck in the back of her throat. She picks a card.

“King of clubs.”

“S-so? Anyone can do card tricks!”

“Look at the card.”

She does, and screams when the mouth on the King begins to move, speaking with Mitch’s voice, telling her to believe him.

“Okay, but can you-”

He rubs his tiny palms together, and when he points at her, he disappears.

She sits up, but grimaces and flops back down when a twinge of pain shoots through her. “Where are you?” she demands.

Movement catches her eye, and she turns her head the other direction to see the little man with a hand held up, fingers wiggling in a little wave.

“Y-you’re screwy, that’s what you are!”

He just laughs, shaking his head, “I granted your wish.”

“W-what?”

“Remember when you wished to go to Hollywood Arts?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Jade made a wish to go to a regular public school, so I switched you guys. I, uh, might’ve made a mistake though. But like I said, my magic only works on good days,” he continues, his face still pleasant.

Her heart drops at the sound of the name.

“W-wait, _Jade_?”

“Yeah,” Mitch replies easily, pulling a screen from his jacket pocket, showing a picture of the thespian.

It’s the picture that’s used in the list of fatalities, and a strangled sound makes its way out of her throat.

“You-” her voice is a croak, “You were the one that switched us! You caused me,” she gestures to herself, “ _this_. You ruined my life!” she cries out.

He sighs, waddling back over to the chair to sit on it, “Be careful what you wish for.”

She’s crying, and the empty feeling in her chest returns when she’s startled back to reality. A reality where Jade’s gone.

“You caused me so much pain,” she rasps.

He sighs, “You see, when I switched you, you guys ended up swapping three years apart.”

“Wait, what?”

“You were in 2012, but she was in 2009. That’s why she died three years ago. I accidentally screwed up the timeline because, well, I can travel between timelines, and alternate realities, so I heard her say her wish and didn’t realize you two were three years apart.”

She chokes at the word ‘died’ her head drooping as her shoulders shake silently, “You’re so screwy. You destroyed… everything. You- you can’t just give her to me and then rip her away. You took away _everything_ when you did that.” Her heart does that little skip when she calls Jade her everything, a feeling she hasn’t felt since they texted the night of Jade’s… passing, and she screws her eyes shut, trying to hold on to it. 

“Maybe check before you do your screwy magic again?” she sniffs, her hand finding the necklace, but it’s not there.

She gropes around her neck for the chain although it’s evidently not there. “Where’s my necklace?” Her voice is a little panicked because she _needs_ to hold on to that little piece of Jade she has left.

“You mean this one?” Mitch is holding a chain, and she nods, reaching for it.

The moment it touches her fingers, warmth rushes through her body, and for the first time since she had found out Jade had passed, she feels... hopeful. She doesn’t have the strength to lift her head long enough to fix the clasp behind her, so she clutches it to her chest, wanting that cavity to just be filled up.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, glancing at the charm, running a thumb over it.

“No problem.”

She heaves a heavy sigh, glancing at her bandaged forearms, one with an IV sticking out of it. Kicking the sheets from on top of her exposes her legs, also bandaged, but not as much.

“What did I do to myself?” she breathes, blinking as fresh tears make their way down her face.

“You almost killed yourself.”

“I know that…”

“Sorry, kid. It’s my fault,” he says after a moment of silence.

 _Yeah, it is._ “You know how you can make it up to me?” An idea springs from the little hope in her chest, a little spark.

The smallest ember among the ashes.

“How?”

“Grant me another wish.”

“Okay…? What do you want, Tori?”

“I want to switch one final time with Jade. Go back half a year to the day of The Big Showcase.” She takes a deep breath, knowing she has one chance, and one chance only, ”I wish for a chance to save Jade.”

The tiny angel’s eyes stitch themselves together as he considers the request, “Alright. Here we go.”

He widens his stance and begins rubs his hands together slowly, and points directly at her. Light flares outside the window, an unnatural greenish light pulsing. The brunette hair that lays on her shoulders blows into her face as a gust of wind picks them up for a second.

She holds her breath.

Nothing happens.

“Mitch?”

“Triggered by sleep, remember?”

She smiles genuinely, for the first time she can remember since her best friend had died.

“Right. Uh, can you put this on?” She uncurls her fingers from the necklace, and the angel nods, snapping his fingers once. She looks down in surprise; it’s around her neck.

“Uh, thanks. Can I have a sheet of paper?”

Another burst of air, and there’s one in her hands.

“Screwy. Huh. Okay.”

And she scribbles a quick note after a pen blinks into existence between her fingers. She has to pull out her phone to do a little research on the bombing, but when she has the information needed, it’s enough to devise a plan and execute it.

When she’s finished, she folds the note in half and hands it to the tiny angel. “Give this to her?”

“Okay.”

She pulls the blanket back over her, inhaling slowly, “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s reassuring,” she grumbles, but adjusts her hair from underneath her. She winces when pain lances up her arm, but she just supposes it’s her fault.

Despite that, she squirms until she’s comfortable, murmuring a final “thank you” to Mitch, who just watches from his bedside chair.

As she closes her eyes, waiting for sleep to come take her in its grip, she thinks back to a conversation with Jade. She’s not completely sure how she remembers it, but out of everything, it stands out to her.

 _I don’t like being happy,_ her text had read. 

_Why?_ She had responded with a frown.

Jade had gone on to explain that feeling happy makes all the bad things feel worse. How when you’re happy, it tips the scale off balance, and suddenly the bad things will feel terrible to reinstate the equilibrium of the scale. Jade had said that being happy makes you want more. Makes you want to hold on to the feeling forever. But all things come to an end, and when it ends, it leaves you hanging.

 _That’s why I hate being happy,_ she had explained, _But you make me happy, and it’s not a bad thing because in this case, the feeling stays._

Tori remembers smiling when she had read that. She smiles now, understanding exactly what Jade had been talking about.

How the pain had made her crave the happiness she once had. It had made the pain so much worse. 

She runs her hand over the bandages on her skin, feeling the roughness catch her epidermis as she swirls her hand lightly over the covered-up cuts, exhaling deeply at the sting it brings.

Within minutes, the world falls away, and she falls with it.

She tumbles into a void so blue she thinks she’s in water. She’s floating.

The sole thing the color reminds her of is Jade’s eyes. She knows it now. She sees it. She remembers it. She flips soundlessly through space, her eyes gazing in wonder at the beautiful color the world around her is.

The chain of her necklace begins to lengthen, and the charm glows as it pulls away from her, lengthening the rope as it drifts away. She reaches out a hand to catch it, but it darts from her grip and speeds off into the endless space in front of her. Her arm moves sluggishly, almost like she’s moving in slow motion.

She follows quickly behind, her body following its lead. She screws her eyes shut when the void brightens, slowly lightening until it’s a bright white she can see even through her eyelids.

When she blinks her eyes open again, she sees a baby. Soft and hazy, almost like a memory, and she gazes in wonder at the images. 

The baby blinks its eyes open, revealing a beautiful green-blue that leaves her breathless. 

_The baby is Jade,_ she realizes. She sees a man, probably Jade’s father, who hasn’t made an appearance in the months they’ve switched. She feels a twinge of pity, but before she can think further, she’s swept along the timeline.

She is met by another moving image; this time Jade’s a little older. Her hair is a light hazel, soft and straight down her back as she sings along to the music on the television. Even as a young child, the pitch accuracy is stunning, and she watches a woman, a younger version of Mrs. West, smile at her daughter.

She’s taken further along, when her father leaves, and Jade’s world shatters. Her heart aches for her friend, who immediately shies away from the world. 

The next thing she sees is her and Beck, in the eighth grade, sharing a clumsy and awkward kiss for the first time. She turns away from it, eyes seeking out another image that appears before her eyes. 

It’s the goth, auditioning for Hollywood Arts at the age of thirteen.

Her voice, breathy and a little sultry leave her mouth hanging open and her heart racing. The control, the ease in which she sings captivates her, and she lets herself get caught up in the vision before she’s swept along.

She sees Jade getting her tattoo inked in, Jade getting her nose and eyebrow piercing, attaching highlights to her hair, which is dyed jet-black.

There’s her first day at Hollywood Arts, her first performance, her first written work being displayed for the first time. She sees Jade yelling soundlessly at Beck, texting on her phone with her eyes bright.

 _She’s texting me._ It brings a smile to her face.

She sees the thespian begin to snatch the leads of the month plays, even as a fourteen year old. Her presence on stage was absolutely alluring, and the raven-haired girl entranced everyone. Tori is no exception.

She sees the events that lead up to and take place during the time they switch; she sees herself, but the confusion in those brown eyes tells Tori that it’s Jade. She sees herself going on the first date with Daniel to Karaoke Dokie. It’s Jade, singing that Katy Perry song.

The beautiful voice that leaves Tori’s mouth doesn’t sound like her own. It’s beautiful.

She sees Jade at The Big Showcase, and her heart seizes, knowing that’s the day the goth is going to die saving everyone else. She sees her running into the kid with the bomb strapped to his chest. She watches as Jade sprints away, hollering something inaudible at Beck, doubling back to pull all the fire alarms.

She sees the auditorium blow up, Jade along with it. A strangled sob escapes her throat, and suddenly, she’s falling. Faster, faster, faster, and then she hits the floor.

The first thing she’s aware of is the ringtone. Her eyes snap open, and rolls over… 

Off the bed. She lands with a muffled _hmph_ , but the pain fades quickly as her eyes gaze eagerly around the room, to the familiar poster, to her own body.

The ember sparks into flames. The good type of fire. The fire that is passion, and enthusiasm, and energy. The fire that warms and comforts rather than burns and kills.

“I’m her. I’m Jade,” she dashes to the mirror, almost bursting into tears when she sees those ocean eyes gazing right back at her. “I’m her. She’s alive. Jade’s _alive._ ”

No, scratch that, she _is_ in tears, and she gives herself a moment to take in the girl in the mirror, committing to memory every part of her. _I won’t forget,_ she promises herself.

She picks up the phone, which has begun to ring for the second time, answering Beck’s question with an urgency. She tells him she has something important to say.

When the call ends, she inhales sharply as she sees the date on the PearPhone home screen. _It’s today,_ she realizes as her blood runs cold. _Today’s the day I die._

Tori inhales slowly, her hands finding those breasts for one final time. She flushes, but allows herself the opportunity to relish this single moment of relief before she leaves.

She grabs the bag by the door and glances back at the mirror one last time.

“I’m going to save you,” Tori vows. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Summary:
> 
> Tori struggles with life, knowing that Jade is gone, but after an attempt, she finds herself in the hospital… with Mitch. His magic is very screwy, according to Tori, and she learns that he accidentally granted both Jade and Tori’s wishes, but three years apart.
> 
> See, Mitch can travel between timelines and alternate realities, so his screwy magic screwed this up. Anyway, he agrees to one last wish for Tori, to switch one last time, back to the day of the Big Showcase.
> 
> She wakes up as Jade for the last time and vows to save her.


	10. Chapter 9

Luckily for her, she’s there half an hour early, and so she sprints over to Beck, who is waiting for her patiently, hands in his pockets as he hums carelessly. Little does he know that things aren’t so great.

“Beck!” Tori runs up to him, waving an arm enthusiastically. She notices how she’s feeling a lot… lighter than she was before, and her arm doesn’t sting when she stretches it to catch his attention.

He jogs over slowly, PearPhone gripped in his hand, and Tori greets him with a smile and a tiny wave. She hopes it’s enough to tell him that it’s not her.

“Jade?”

She just sighs.

“ _ Tori _ ?” he narrows his eyes, his gaze flickering across her face.

“Yeah,” she chuckles lightly and waves awkwardly. “Hi.”

“Oh my God,” he inhales sharply, his hand hovering by his mouth. “She was right. Jade was absolutely right.”

“What?” Tori frowns, throwing a confused glance towards the boy.

“When she told me you guys were switching bodies. I didn’t believe it but…”

“Here I am,” she spreads her arms with a little giggle.

“Oh, wow.  _ Man _ , is it weird to hear Jade giggle,” he screws his eyes shut, pressing his forehead to his palm.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Tori paces frantically, “I’m here because we don’t have time.” She inhales deeply, “If we don’t do anything Jade’s gonna die tonight. And almost everyone else.”

“ _ What _ ?!”

“You have to believe me!” She bursts out, “There’s going to be a suicide bomber, and we have to do something about it.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

She does a little math in her head calculating how much time she has before the bomb is set off.

“Okay,” she mutters to herself, “I’m meeting Jade on the roof in about ten minutes, and her call time is at 2:20, meaning I have, like, twenty minutes. The bomb goes off at about three, meaning we’re either going to have to stop him from pressing the button, or evacuate everyone if he does.”

“Wait,” Beck interrupts her frantic mumbling, “Who’s  _ him _ ?”

“Robbie,” she explains, “The kid in Sikowitz. With the glasses and the curly hair? He has a bomb strapped to his chest.”

“Oh my God.”

“I know. So, uh, do you know anyone who can defuse a bomb?”

He just frowns, his countenance lighting up after a second of thought, “Yes, uh, I might.” He glances around the room, waving over a scrawny student with glasses and a mop of curly hair. “Sinjin!”

“Ooh, hello.” Tori’s face screws up at the creepy sound of his voice.

“Sinjin! Can you defuse a bomb? Like, do you know which wire to cut?”

“Maybe. I, uh, I take payment in cash or hugs.” Tori gawks at him incredulously, “Or kisses,” he adds, his voice cracking in an attempt to sound sultry.

“Oh God,” she rolls her eyes and wraps her arms around this guy for a split second before pulling away, “There you go. Now, listen to us.”

The boy sighs dreamily, “There comes that feeling.”

“Sinjin!” she snaps.

“Yes. Right.”

“Go ahead, Tori,” he gestures to her.

“Wait, who’s To-”

“Shut up!” She takes a deep breath, “So, basically, there’s a suicide bomber in here. I don’t know where he is, but his name is Robbie. At about three, so, in about an hour and… eight minutes, a bomb’s gonna blow off. It’s only big enough to blow the auditorium and some, so we just have to evacuate everyone to the Asphalt Cafe by then.

“We might be able to persuade the kid not to set it off, but if we don’t, it’s up to you to kill the bomb.” She nods to Sinjin. “If that doesn’t happen…” She exhales sharply.

She turns when a warm hand clasps her shoulder, “We’ll be fine.”

And so she turns away from the stage, and steps outside, finding her way to the stairway in the school that leads to the roof. There’s no time to gaze around and sob over the familiarity of the place, and so she sprints into the main hall, a relieved gush of air  _ whoosh _ ing from her nose when she spots Jade’s locker, still black and decorated with scissors. It takes all of her willpower not to stop there, and she dashes past the clashing assortment of painted doors, turning a left, then a right at the water fountain.

She screams and jumps back when a door swings open and a man she recognizes as Mr. Sikowitz steps out.

“Hey! Where are  _ you  _ going?” The balding man sips from a straw stabbed into a coconut, which, to be honest, has more hair than him.

She pants out a reply, “I need to… get to the roof…”

He eyes her warily, stopping her as she tries to barge past, “You’re not… Jade, are you?”

She gapes at him, “Who told you?”

He lifts his coconut, “The milk gives me visions.”

“Um… okay.”

“Go!” He gestures wildly to the stairwell at the end of the hall, “Go get your girl!”

“Uh…” She dashes away without another word, aware her cheeks are burning. 

She bursts onto the rooftop with ragged gasps, doubled over with her hands pressing on her knees to catch her breath for a quick second. She’s about a minute late, and the entire time she’s known Jade, she’s never been late, so she calls her name.

“Jade!” She calls, and the way her name just slips off her tongue brings a pang to her heart.

“Jade!” She screams into the sky, not caring if other people can hear her, “I know you’re here! Jade!”

She considers the possibility that she might’ve gotten held back at the hospital, but she  _ knows _ for a fact that the thespian easily can find a way out of there, discharged or not.

And by the energy coursing through her veins, she knows Jade’s there, on the roof with her. She just does.

“Jade,” she shrieks out until her throat is raw, her feet running around the perimeter, thundering clumsily around.

She almost collapses when a burst of energy shoots through her, so strong her feet skid to a halt.

She turns around hesitantly, reaching an arm out to touch the spot she had felt that  _ something _ .

Her hand tingles.

But there’s nothing.

She slumps, turning to face the city, simultaneously hating and loving the way her heart beats so frantically. Maybe it’s from the running, or the screaming, or maybe Jade’s  _ here _ and they’ll never be able to meet because they’re trapped in two separate timelines.

“Mitch,” she whispers, her voice broken, pleading, “If you can give me one more wish… please, let me see her, even if it’s just for a bit…”

She trails off, because… there she is. Standing in front of her, gazing out at the city, in her own body, is Jade West.

A glance down reveals she’s back in her own body, and the shaky breath she lets out causes the raven-haired girl to turn.

And as always, those eyes are the first thing that captures her complete attention and pulls her in, just like every time she looked in the mirror when they swapped.

They’re filled with tears, a thin layer of water coating the ocean-colored orbs.

They’re just as beautiful as she remembers.

“Jade,” she breathes out, and something inside her just clicks inside of her.

She charges forward with her arms outstretched, not even considering the fact Jade doesn’t like physical contact, but she knows it’s okay when the other girl meets her embrace with equal fervor, choking out her name brokenly.

“Tori.”

* * *

Jade blinks her eyes open, and the first thing she notices is that she’s in an unfamiliar place. 

The lights are off, but the sun bleeds through the curtains, casting a few golden rays on the sterile white that lines the room.

She struggles out from under the sheets, glancing around.

“I’m in… a… hospital. Oh my God, what happened?”

Her question is answered when she sees her arms, wrapped in bandages that are stained with small spots of blood. 

“Oh my-”

A quick glance at the brunette hair that falls over her shoulder confirms that it is Tori.

“Oh, Tori. What did you do to yourself?” she whispers, almost like if she speaks any louder, everything will shatter.

Her heart aches for the half-Latina.

Before she can do anything else, the door opens, and a woman almost charges in.

“Tori! You’re awake!”

She nods numbly, wondering what in the name of chiz happened to the girl who had always been so much happier than she is. 

_ Why did you do this, Tori? What happened? _

She gives the woman, Tori’s mom, a weak smile.

“How are you feeling, honey?”

She shrugs, “Fine. Tired.”

The door squeakily opens to reveal a tiny man in a small white coat. He’s probably around three or four feet tall. She wonders if it’s a child’s doctor’s costume and has to suppress a chuckle at the thought.

“I have a note for, erm, Tori.”

She just frowns, struggling to sit up. Her mother, well, Mrs. Vega coaxes her to lay down, but she shrugs the woman off, instead of reaching out to grab the sheet of folded up paper.

The small man looks into her eyes like he knows everything.

It scares her.

She looks away, fixing her eyes on the note, feeling air rush out of her lungs when she recognizes Tori’s handwriting. It has her name on the front.

The doctor leaves, not before giving her a nod of acknowledgment. It’s weird, but it gives her a warm feeling.

She takes a deep breath before reading it.

_ Jade, _ the note reads.

_ You’re going to die today. _

_ But I can rewrite the future. In my time, you’re already dead. For three years, actually. I asked for a chance to save you, so here we are. If you’re reading this, then I have succeeded in switching us for a final time.  _

_ You’re going to die at 3 pm. Meet me on the roof of Hollywood Arts by 2. Please be there. I’m not letting you die again. _

She closes the letter, fighting to keep her face stoic.

“Hey, mom. When am I getting out of here?”

“Uh, I dunno, sweetie. Maybe today or tomorrow?”

Jade glances at the analog clock on the wall. If she wants to meet Tori on time, she’ll have to leave the hospital in less than five hours.

“Any chance I can get out, like, in the next few hours?”

“Why?”

“I wanna go home,” she answers simply.

“I’m not sure we can get you out that early. You’re gonna have to stay here and have the doctors examine you a bit longer, see if you’re fit to go home.”

She swallows the sudden frustration and rage that bubbles from her stomach, “Okay.”

Jade grits her teeth as she speaks to Tori’s family and friends, her eyes lingering on the clock multiple times a minute. It’s awkward and she has to fight the urge to lash out when everyone comes to her with identical expressions of pity, cautious.

When the short hand on the clock touches the twelve, she knows she has to leave. But the hospital isn’t going to discharge her this early.

So she fakes a yawn and asks sleepily if she can take a nap, again using Tori’s nonexistent lying skill to her advantage.

Everyone is sympathetic, gaze pitying. They leave the room without a second thought.

Once the hallway quiets, she prays to no one in particular that no one will see her, and climbs out of bed. 

A saline IV is still attached to her forearm, so she removes it, careful not to rip it out. She curses when she realizes her scissors aren’t on her, and fashions a make-shift cutter using a few loose threads on the scratchy blanket, pulling it back and forth until the plastic bracelet on her wrist snaps.

She unclips the monitor on her fingertip, wincing when the device beeps loudly, and so she slams her fist into the machine, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she was holding when it silences.

No one knocks at the door, so she continues.

She slips into the change of clothes Mrs. Vega had brought, finding Tori’s PearPhone in her mother’s purse.

So she takes it and pockets it. And then she peers through the little window in the door, cursing when she sees Tori’s mom sitting outside.

She turns to the window. Luckily for her, the room is only on the second level, and she sees that if she dangles from the window sill, the drop to the first-story roof isn’t too far. 

She unlocks the window and pulls it with all her strength, grunting with the effort. Clearly, Tori’s extremely weak, even more so after the blood loss and wounds on her arms and legs. It finally budges, and her arms ache with the effort, but she’s grinning in satisfaction when it opens enough for her to crawl out. She pulls open the screen as well, taking a deep breath as she looks down. 

She glances around for any sign of someone watching outside on the street, and when no one is in sight, she climbs so she’s sitting on the window sill. A few seconds later, she’s scooting her butt off and twisting her body so she can grab on to the ledge with her fingers.

_ One, two, three! _

She lets her body drop, almost letting out a squeal of pain when her arms almost give out right away. Her forearms burn as the skin stretches, undoubtedly opening up a few of the deeper cuts that hadn’t been stitched.

_ I’m okay. I can deal with pain. _

Thanks to Tori being a little above average height, the drop isn’t too far, but it still sends pain lancing up her leg when she lands wrong, the impact excruciating. She lets out a yell and claps a hand to her mouth. She sits once more, inching as far to the edge of the roof as she can without falling to the ground.

She squints around, glad her cry wasn’t heard.

And then she twists around, her fingers grabbing the ledge as she drops. Everything seems to be going in her favor, and there’s a short wall the tip of her toes touch when she slowly lowers herself, arms shaking with the exertion. 

She lands on it, eyes immediately meeting those of another patient’s. The man looks at her, eyes wide, and so she carefully climbs off the wall, power walking away since her legs can’t seem to run.

She recognizes the hospital as Peters Sinai, a building within walking distance of her house, meaning it’s definitely within walking distance of Hollywood Arts.

A quick search on Zaplook Maps confirms just that, and she pulls the sleeves of her jacket lower to hide her wrists and sets off.

Jade keeps her head up, knowing that if she tries too hard to blend in as a normal pedestrian, it’s only gonna make her stand out more.

She reaches the school ten minutes early, immediately noticing that the auditorium is different. 

_ Oh God… does it blow up tonight? _

The date on her lock screen reveals that it’s May, meaning students are still in school. She also frowns, knowing the Big Showcase is in December.

_ Hey, it’s magic probably. Tori got us to switch one more time, and we’ve been switching three years apart, haven’t we? _

She pulls open the note, fingers lightly tracing the words that say she’s died three years ago… in  _ Tori’s _ timeline.

_ We were switching in different times all along, _ she reasons, a laugh bursting from her chest when she realizes why Tori didn’t recognize her.

She has to dodge a couple of staff and students, but she makes it up onto the roof of the main building with ten minutes to spare.

So she sits down at the edge and gazes out at the city, eyes landing on the infamous Hollywood sign. It’s always been something she could see every day, something so familiar, something that was and still is home for her.

Her fingers twitch as she fights not to check the time, impatiently waiting for Tori to arrive. She pulls out the necklace from under her shirt.

It’s hers. The same one she had given Tori all those years ago when she had met her. She didn’t know it, but she would meet the very same girl in three years.

Tori had probably forgotten by now.

She runs a thumb over the familiar metal charm, letting her finger trace over the tiny patterns and nicks in the surface.

It eases her impatience a little and gives her hands something to do, but even so, she twitches restlessly, waiting for the moment she’ll see Tori.

For real. In-person. The Tori that recognizes her, knows her,  _ loves _ her.

Even without looking at Tori’s lock screen, she knows ten minutes have passed, and disappointment weighs heavy in her chest.

_ What if it didn’t work? We’re like, six months apart. _

And then she hears something. 

She almost falls off the roof pushing herself to her feet, her ears pricked for another sound.

It’s her name. Faint, but it’s clearly her name.

She calls tentatively back, “Tori?”

The response is louder, almost a scream, “Jade!” It’s unmistakably her own voice. She’d recognize it anywhere.

Her legs begin to move, scrambling around as she tries to figure out where the other girl is. 

“Tori! Are you here?”

A faint cry can be heard in return, a little louder than before, and suddenly, something shoots through her. She freezes, her breaths coming in pants.

She turns slowly, hoping, desperately hoping Tori’s there, but she sees nothing but empty space.

“Tori?” She whispers, reaching a hand towards the area where she felt something, almost as if she had passed through her.

Something tickles her fingers, but it passes through empty air. Tori’s not there.

A heavy sigh leaves her throat, and for some reason, the world seems to shift under her feet. She stares out over the city, disappointment, and frustration weighing down her heart and pooling in the form of tears in her eyes. There’s something different, more familiar that what she was seeing literally three seconds ago, but she can’t place it.

Either way, it’s beautiful, and she lets a sob escape her throat, one that’s been building in her chest for longer than she can remember.

A ragged intake of air next to her makes her head turn, and that’s when she realizes she’s back in her own body.

And that Tori’s standing next to her. 

(Not exactly next to, but several feet away)

Visible, tangible,  _ real _ Tori Vega.

The next thing she knows, her name is falling from the half-Latina’s lips in a soft breath, which stops her heart for a second. And then they’re a mere foot away from each other because Tori’s running towards her.

When they collide, the world seems to shift off its axis, and her heart feels like it’s bursting from her chest, and even her skin seems to hum in contentment, and she can’t stop the broken, “Tori” that is gasped.

Her arms find the other girl’s waist and pull her close, and all she can think about is the fact that she hates hugs, but maybe she doesn’t hate them after all because it just feels  _ so good. _

She grips the other girl tightly, their bodies flush against each other, both of them crying. Tears are running down her face, and all Jade can think about is the fact that Tori’s heart is beating so fast. Or maybe it’s her heart. Or maybe it’s both. She holds Tori like there’s no tomorrow like it’s her last chance like she never wants to let go.

And she doesn’t. She doesn’t want to let go.

But yeah, it might be her last chance. Her first and her last chance. And maybe there won’t be a tomorrow. There won’t be, not if she dies tonight.

Tori pulls away first, and Jade glances behind her when she realizes that those coffee-brown eyes are fixed on something beyond her.

It’s that doctor, the tiny one, from the hospital.

“Wha-”

“Jade, this is Mitch.”

“Mitch, who?”

She’s rewarded with a soft giggle that makes her insides knot itself. 

“He’s, uh, he’s the one- he’s an angel, and he’s the guy who switched us in the first place.”

“You-” she charges at him, only to stop when Tori lets out a squeal of pain after trying to pull her back. “Oh my God, did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, examining her arm. “I’m fine.” Her low chuckle sends butterflies, no, wildly flapping birds flooding her insides. “Don’t be mad at him.”

“Why not?” She retorts, “He caused us all this… confusion.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Mitch pipes up, voice solemn, “It’s a hard lesson to learn.”

The goth scoffs, “So you had to make it this hard?”

Before the angel can answer, Tori snorts, “So you had to go all  _ Monkey’s Paw _ and kill her?”

“Whoa, wait, wait, wait.”

“What?” her eyes sparkle in annoyance at the lack of response from the angel but turns to Jade.

“You’ve read that?”

“Duh, yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well… Hitchcock.”

“So?”

Jade splutters, “You couldn’t even look at the poster in my room!”

“At least words leave more to the imagination,” Tori grimaces.

“True…” she trails off, turning back to Mitch, “So why us and not the, presumably, thousands, if not millions of people who have wished for stupid things?”

He just shrugs, “I heard you guys. Plus, I was in the area. Was traveling along the coast after almost ruining Carly Shay’s life.”

“Carly Shay?!? Like  _ iCarly _ Carly Shay?”

The man nods sheepishly, “I turned it back though. If you guys want, I could go back and make it so you guys never switched.”

“No!” Tori bursts out, earning an odd look from the other person.

“Why?” Jade frowns.

“Well, I’m grateful I met you.” It’s said timidly, in a way that makes Jade glance at her with a little too much adoration in her gaze.

The thespian hides a little smile, “Me too.”

Mitch coughs, “Well, I better still get my wings. You two have learned your lesson, right?’

“Yeahp. All is good,” Jade waves dismissively.

A large bucket materializes in the angel’s grip and his expression changes to one of delight. A closer glance reveals that those are in fact wings, just…  _ chicken wings _ rather than the assumed angel wings he would earn.

“Oh my God,” the girls utter simultaneously.

Tori looks incredulous, “You did this for a heap of  _ chicken wings _ ?”

He pauses, already gnawing on one, “Yeah.”

The high schoolers groan together, and the angel just shrugs it off, continuing to take huge bites of chicken.

“That’s great,” the brunette mutters, “Still, though, I don’t regret anything…” She adds after.

“What about… that?” The goth gestures to the bandaged arms. “Did you cut yourself?”

She nods sheepishly, “I found out you died.”

Jade snorts, throwing up her arms, “So you immediately assumed you were supposed to die with me?”

“I wasn’t intending to kill myself,” Tori flashes back, “Do you- You don’t know how much you mean to me,” she adds, her voice softer.

The thespian takes a deep breath, “Vega…”

The name makes the half-Latina laugh again, her head lifting to meet her gaze. “Br-”

She lifts a finger, “Don’t even.”

The pout she’s faced with is honestly too adorable to resist, and she finds herself staring at the other girl fondly.

A cough from behind her breaks the little moment, “You two might wanna hurry up. It’s hard enough to merge timelines, but you too are months apart. Running out of magic here.”

Tori straightens, “Right.” It’s serious, but there’s still a small smile on her lips.

“So, why’d you tell me to come here?”

“Because you’re going to die toni-”

“I already know that!’

“God, you’re insufferable,” she grumbles, but it comes with a playful glare, “Listen to me!”

“Okay. Fine.  _ Vega. _ ”

Tori shakes her head with an exaggerated sigh, “Anyway, there’s this kid named Robbie. He has a bomb. It’s set to blow up the entire auditorium, but luckily, it’s strapped to his chest and not planted in the ground with a timer. He has a little button thingy… I think.”

“Wait. So I’m supposed to stop him?” 

“Basically. I already told Beck the plan, and what you need to do is talk him out of it. If he does it, you need to pull the fire alarm and evacuate everybody in three minutes. Sinjin is supposed to defuse the bomb, but if he can’t do it… Jade, promise me you’ll get out of there.”

She looks at the other girl, doe eyes already brimming with tears again, “Promise me. I- Maybe I’m selfish for doing this, but you have to live. So if things… don’t go according to plan, you have to get out of there.”

She just nods.

“Promise?”

“Vega, I…”

“You don’t do promises. I know. But this just this once. Or this second time, whatever. Please?”

She meets those wide eyes, and she’s gone. No match for the pleading in them, so she just responds hazily, “Promise.”

“Also why do you insist on calling me Vega?”

Jade grins cockily, “Why not?”

“Ugh, that’s not a response!”

“I’ll give you a response when you tell me why you were feeling up my boobs.”

There’s a yelp of indignation, but Tori’s rose-tinted cheeks say everything, “I didn’t-”

The thespian waggles her finger, “Yes, you did!”

“Fine! It was only once.”

“Once?”

“Or twice,” she mumbles, “Or-”

“My brother thinks I’m obsessed with my own boobs, ya nub.”

Tori groans, “I hate you.”

“No, you love me,” she cackles gleefully, not even noticing the way the half-Latina’s face burns a furious red, her gaze immediately shifting to her feet.

“Hmph.” The brunette crosses her arms, bottom lip pushed out in an adorable pout- and  _ God, when did I use the word ‘adorable’ so much? _

Jade’s about to tease further, but she catches the necklace that gleams in the overhead sun.

She reaches out to touch it. “You kept it,” she whispers.

Tori nods, “I didn’t know it was you who gave it to me, even when you had the same one every time we switched. But it made me feel safe, so I wore it as a good luck charm.”

Jade just gives her one of those genuine smiles in return, that smile that never fails to make Tori’s heart writhe. 

“Here.” The shorter girl unclasps the necklace from around her neck, “You take it back.”

“But-”

“It’s yours. Think of it as a gift.”

She accepts it wordlessly, turning around so Tori can hook the clasp behind her neck. “Thank you,” she breathes when it’s finally fixed around her neck.

The brunette shrugs, “It looks beautiful on you.”

The statement makes her heart skip a beat.

They just look at each other then. It’s a little awkward more than anything, but Jade takes the opportunity to gaze into the other girl’s eyes, memorizing the little patterns in the iris, committing the chocolate-colored orbs to memory. 

“Hey, why don’t we write our names on each other so we don’t forget?”

She looks up in relief.  _ So I’m not the only one forgetting. _

Tori looks over Jade’s shoulder, waving towards the angel standing there, and a permanent marker appears in her hand.

“Nice,” Jade comments at the same time Tori grunts, “Screwy.”

She uncaps the pen, reaching out to take the thespian’s hand.

Her skin burns at the touch of the half-Latina’s fingertips, and she has to fight the urge not to shiver.

The felt tip of the pen brushes her skin lightly, and she doesn’t watch her hand. She just gazes at Tori, memorizing the way she bites her lower lip when she concentrates, how she has to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear when the breeze blows it in her face.

When she finishes writing it, she blows on the ink gently. The warm air tickles her palm, and the brunette just smiles to herself, closing Jade’s fingers around it, gently wrapping her hand in a first. “Your turn.”

She takes the pen, pulling back Tori’s sleeve to reveal her unmarked palm. The bandages peek through, and her heart aches all over again now that she knows she’s the cause of her friend’s unintentional suicide attempt.

She takes a deep breath, and writes the horizontal line of the ‘J,’ but before she can get further than that, the pen drops to the ground, clattering as it lands.

She bends over to pick it up, and by the time she’s upright, Tori’s gone.

She whirls around to face the angel. But he’s gone too.

She tucks the black marker in her pocket, the only remnant of the other girl outside of the necklace.

With a deep sigh, she holds the closed fist to her chest, over the charm of her necklace. "Your name is Tori. I'm not gonna forget it. I won't forget it. Tori. Tori Vega. Your name is Tori. Wherever you are in the world, I swear I'll find you again."

With that, she turns, and she heads downstairs, on a mission to save her own life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi follow our jori account on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/prettypinkidiot/</a) thank you very much 
> 
> also follow my (waterymellen's) personal music account on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/rewriite.the.stars/) pretty please


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh! final chapter before the epilogue and bonus one-shots! sorry we took so long!

**chapter 10**

The pen vanishes in thin air along with Jade, and she doesn’t realize until she notices the tickle of the felt tip pen has ceased. She looks up to see that the thespian is gone, and so is the angel.

She doesn’t have anything to write with, and so she just wraps her fist around the tiny mark, as if it would keep it from flying away.

“Jade. Jade. Your name is Jade. Got it. Jade. Like the gemstone.”

And she begins the descent down from the roof, noticing how the auditorium is different. Rebuilt after it was blown up.

She just hopes Jade can save everyone with this second chance.

She begins her walk home; it’s still bright out, and so she makes the naive mistake of slipping her hood over her head and slouching because she’s noticed immediately. She utters Jade’s name softly, over and over. 

She tries to break into a run when a familiar car pulls up beside her, but the few cuts on her thighs throb, and she ends up on her knees. She’s pulled reluctantly to her feet and led to the car in silence.

“Victoria Dawn Vega,” Her mother sounds frustrated, “You escaped?”

She slumps down in the passenger seat, silent.

“Why would you- You jumped out the window. You could have died! Again!”

Tori flashes a glance over, immediately noticing how exhausted her mom looks. There are bags under her eyes, and her make-up looks messy as if she had done it in a rush. 

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, “It was selfish. But I had to go see, uh…” 

Her heart stops, and suddenly, she feels like everything’s escaping her, trickling away. 

“What’s her name? Uh, I forgot her name? What’s your name? I wasn’t supposed to forget, what’s your name?” She mutters to herself, racking her brain for an answer.

She doesn’t get one.

“You had to go see what?”

Tori shakes her head, gritting her teeth to suppress the pain that’s beginning to flood back, “Nevermind,” she just mumbles.

“Honey,” her mom takes a deep breath, “How would you feel about speaking to a psychiatrist?”

She stays silent.  _ I won’t need one if Jade succeeds. The timeline is going to be rewritten. _

So she agrees, that little spark of optimism still burning in her.  _ Jade’s going to succeed. None of this is going to matter. _

The ride is tense back to the hospital, and she doesn’t utter a word as they escort her back to her room, leaving a nurse to watch over her.

She closes her eyes, seeing glow-in-the-dark stars and the gleam of scissor blades flash beneath her eyelids.

_ What’s your name? I can’t remember. _

The single black mark on her palm does nothing to help.

* * *

“Tori, Tori, Tori,” she mutters beneath her breath as she makes her descent from the roof. “Your name is Tori.”

She almost crashes into Beck because she’s not paying attention, and she lurches backward.

“Tori?”

“Wait, wait, wait… did you say?  _ Tori _ ?”

“ _ Jade _ ?”

“Yes, I’m Jade,” she snaps, “Who else would I be?”

He shakes his head, “Tori came here, in uh, your body. She warned us. You know the plan?”

She hesitates, “Let’s go over it one more time.”

They spot the curly-haired awkward boy in the audience and keep an eye on him. Jade checks the time on her phone; there isn’t too much time left, but it’s a lot to do for the two of them.

“Jade! Beck!” The ex-couple whirl around from their spot behind the curtain, finding themselves face-to-face with the one and only Sikowitz.

“What do you want?”

“To help.”

“With what?”

“Whatever you lads are doing.”

“We’re not doing anything,” Jade immediately turns away, but Beck’s hand on her shoulder pulls her back.

“Well, you’re not Tori.”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?”

A coconut practically materializes in his hand, “The milk gives me visions.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve said that like a million times.”

“So,” the balding acting teacher adjusts his knitted scarf that drapes over his shoulders, “What is going on?”

Jade’s about to challenge him again, to tell him nothing is going on, but Beck speaks up first.

“There’s a bomb.”

“Oh. And?”

“We need to evacuate everyone.”

‘Now?”

“No… If we pull the fire alarm now, we won’t be ready, and Robbie might get away.”

“Robbie, huh? Shapiro?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait, Sikowitz?”

“Yes?”

“Can you pull the fire alarm?”

“Just tell me when.”

“When I signal. It’s going to be around exactly three.”

The man doesn’t even question how she knows. He just nods.

_ Suppose it’s useful having an abnormal teacher sometimes. _

She calls Sinjin over, and they discuss the plan once more.

“Right. We have… thirty-five minutes if things don’t change. We can’t have him detonating the bomb early. If I’m not mistaken, we have a three-minute countdown after he pushes the button. “Sikowitz, when I signal, you’re going to pull the fire alarm, but  _ only if I signal _ . People are going stampede, but it’s the best we can do. 

“I don’t think we can tackle him because jostling the explosive might set it off prematurely. So just surround him, or drag him to a place away from the people trying to get out. We’ll have about two minutes at this point, so Sinjin, while we hold him, you’re going to remove the bomb from his strap and try to find the right wire, or a kill switch, a fail-safe, if you will. 

“If none of this works… just run. Get yourselves out of here before three-oh-three. The bomb is only designed to blow up a place this size, so the Asphalt Cafe is far enough. Got it?” 

There are nods and murmurs, and then Sinjin chimes in with his strange voice, “Isn’t pulling the fire alarm falsely illegal?”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t matter if everyone is literally going to be  _ blown to bits if we don’t do it!” _ Her voice rises to a screech, and the boy flinches back.

“Jade,” Sikowitz chides, “Don’t be such a gank.”

She inhales deeply, “I promised someone I wouldn’t die. I’m not breaking that promise.”

And so she goes, scanning the multitude of people for the one kid with an explosive powerful enough to blow the entire auditorium to smithereens, along with the hundreds of people seated in it.

She’s pacing around, her shoes hitting the ground with a small  _ thump _ each time, her fingers twitching, palm burning where Tori’s name had been written.

She doesn’t look at it, doesn’t think of her name.  _ I don’t need any distractions. _

Jade glances at her watch, eyes twitching as she taps her foot, waiting out the excruciating minutes before she has to interfere.

At about ten to three, she watches Robbie slink from the audience to the sound booth, concealed by a wall and dim lighting.

She approaches him carefully, taking a wide turn so he can see her coming from under his hood.

She knows he’s caught sight of her because he tenses, probably recognizing her as the mean girl, or some scary goth chick. Her gaze wanders the room, landing slowly on the curly-haired boy as if she had just caught him in her floating gaze, purely by coincidence.

He shrinks back.

“Hey,” she nods at him as she enters the booth, squeezing past the student operating it. “Robbie, right?”

There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, accompanied by a little relief. Maybe a little validation? She knows the look on his face. It reads  _ Someone knows my name. _

“Yeah, uh, how do you know?”

She shrugs, shoving her hands in her jacket pocket, “We have Sikowitz together.”

He nods slowly, “Right.”

In his pocket, she notices his thumb twitch over the red button of the control, and panic leaps in her chest.  _ No, not yet! _

“So, uh,” the awkward boy starts again, “what do you want?”

She has to take a deep breath, think of what Tori would say in this exact situation. 

“Just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to do this.” She reaches out to tap the bulk on his chest, and he shrinks back.

“W-what do you mean?”

She snorts, “You have a bomb. An explosive set to blow up this building three minutes after you push that red button that’s hidden in your pocket.”

He backs away, “You don’t know anything!”

“Ah,” she leans back, her stance open and exposed, relaxed, “But I do know that you don’t have to push that button. You don’t have to destroy this auditorium and everything else in it. You don’t have to die tonight.”

“What if I want to?”

“Then what about all these people? The hundreds of people who are going to be victims of a suicide bombing. They’re innocents. Most are here to watch their kids perform. Why would you take their life away from them?”

“Because- ‘cause they never saw me!” He snarls, “They- they always made fun of me, laughed at me, brushed me off when I pleaded for them to stop. The adults, they don’t care! The students, they don’t either! I don’t have any  _ friends _ , anyone who even looks at me!”

“I’m looking at you. I see you.”

He snorts disbelievingly, “You’re Jade West. Why are you talking to me? What are you getting out of this? Is this just a dare from your oh-so-perfect boyfriend? From some kid who wants me dead?!”

She shakes her head, “You don’t have to do this. I don’t have to die tonight. You don’t have to die.”

“You could just run out the door right now. You’d live.”

“But the rest of them wouldn’t.”

“And why do you care?” Robbie throws out his arms, “You’ve never cared. Why start now?”

“I know how much pain people feel when someone they love dies. You’re only causing damage. Why be remembered as a boy who died in a bombing, or worse, the boy who killed everyone in a suicide bombing?”

“What do I have to lose?” He snorts, “My life? I’ve never had one!”

“Robbie,” she glances at the lock screen on her phone desperately, “Do it for yourself. Who knows, one day you might impact the world. You might do something great.”

He scoffs, “Since when did you care? You’re the girl who threatens to hurt people with scissors. Why try to save me now? Or is this some stupid selfish plan of yours for some stupid reason?”

She shrugs, “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for your family. I don’t know if they’re here-”

“They’re not.”

“-but I do know that they will be hurt. You might not be, I dunno, blowing them up-”

“Wouldn’t you love to see that,” he comments dryly.

“-but you will cause damage. You know, you’re never going to tell your parents you love them again. You’re never going to be able to, I dunno, go to the place you’ve always wanted to go, accomplish what you’ve always wanted to accomplish. You’re not going to be able to say goodbye to the people who made the, what, fourteen, fifteen years of your life decent.

“You’re going to hurt people. There’s always collateral damage. When a bomb explodes, it ripples outward. It’s like throwing a pebble into a lake. There’s one place of impact, but the ripples spread until the entire calm surface is in motion.

“Your family- The people who love you, they’re never going to want to see another sunrise again because they’re just going to be reminded that it’s one more day without you. Without any of us that are going to die because of you. You’re going to cause so many deaths, and not because of this killing machine that’s attached to you. But because the ripples, the rest of the dominos that go collapsing, are going to reach way beyond you.”

His eyes are cold, but there’s a little hint of water, of melting ice, “And why should I care?”

“It’s selfish! Stop being selfish, maybe? Think of the rest of us?”

“I’ve been selfless my whole life. It’s always backfired. It always comes back and kicks me in the face. Why should I?”

“Goddammit, why do you have to take down the rest of us with you?”

“Because maybe you deserve it.”

“Says who?”

“Says that voice in my head. You probably have one too. Your conscience? Yeah? Well, mine’s the devil, who speaks in some dumb, annoying urban voice, egging me on, repeating the bad things that people scream at me silently. I’m never going to escape  _ that _ .”

She reaches out a hand, aware she has mere seconds. Robbie knows this too; he looks at his watch. “Let me help you.”

He backs away, “No. No. You don’t want to help. You just want to save yourself. You just want me to live, and live with this hurt, this voice in my head that will never come out. You want to watch me slowly go crazy!” His breath comes in fast pants, and his eyes are crazed, and the three digits on the face of Jade’s PearPhone and Robbie’s PearWatch switch over, seemingly tipping on the edge of 2:59.

“Either way, he’s going to kill me. He made me do it!”

She frowns, “He? Who’s  _ he _ ?”

3:00 pm. Robbie glances down.

His thumb smashes down on the button, “You have three minutes.” It’s a pained whisper.

She spins around, meeting Sikowitz’s gaze, and waves her hand. The next thing that can be heard is the squawk of the fire alarm, a blaring noise that startles her and pierces her eardrums, even when she’s expecting it.

Robbie’s eyes widen, and he tries to run, but she tugs him back, resisting every muscle in her body that tells her to tackle him to the ground. He struggles against her grip, and she shoves him to the back of the sound and lighting booth, blocking his way out.

From the shouts that come from outside, it’s clear that the people are panicking, stampeding towards the exits, but there are enough doors to keep people from trampling over each other as they attempt to surge through one.

Beck and Sinjin burst in, helping her hold Robbie in place. They rip off his shirt and the boy squeals as the pack is unstrapped from his body. It’s laid carefully on the floor, and Sinjin gets to work with a couple of screwdrivers and pliers.

The long-haired boy has a thrashing Robbie in his grip, arms wrapped tightly around the latter’s scrawny arms and torso, keeping him from fighting back. 

Jade sits down on his feet.

It’s 3:01.

Sinjin removes the metal panel picking through the multiple differently colored wires on the inside.

“Do you know which one to cut?” Jade calls.

“I spent the last, uh, fifteen minutes scrolling through Zaplook, so… probably.”

“That’s reassuring,” she grumbles. “On any other day, I’d  _ love _ to watch people be blown to smithereens, but now…”

Beck pats her, letting go of Robbie, who just slumps to the ground, eyes glazed over in resignation.”It’s fine. If this kid can hack into PearMaps and take down images, he can probably defuse a bomb.”

“I dunno. Seems a lot more complicated to me.”

“Uh, guys?”

“What?” the goth snaps.

“You have like, thirty seconds.” Sinjin’s head lifts up to glance up at Jade nervously.

“But it’s still… three-oh-one.”

“But I cut the wrong wire.”

She curses, “Get out of here!”

“What about Robbie?”

“Carry him,” she snaps at Beck, already ushering Sinjin out of the room.

The four of them sprint to the stage door, Robbie stumbling along as he’s dragged by her ex-boyfriend.

They don’t have time to place the bomb somewhere where it’ll have less impact, so Jade grabs it cautiously and lightly drops it in a trapdoor leading to under the stage.

And then she runs after the three boys, praying,  _ begging _ to whoever’s listening that she’ll make it out alive.

She’s halfway to the Asphalt Cafe, barely out of the building, when she hears the deafening crack of an explosion, and although she’s outside the blast zone, the impact still throws her to the ground.

She falls forwards, her arms outstretched to catch herself. Pain lances up her wrists when she strikes the ground, elbows crumpling, rolling over and over until she slows to a stop. She can tell her hair is a mess, and there's a scrape on her palms, arms, and cheek that throb slightly. 

Her vision blurs before her eyes, but she’s alive, and as the slight sting begins to escalate to a burn, she feels a slight grin coming to her face, because she’s  _ alive _ , and she kept her promise.

_ I did it! I’m alive. I did it for you, Tori. Your name is Tori!  _

Shouts and sirens reach her ears, and movement from the corner of her vision tells her people are running towards her, but she doesn’t have the energy to move, and her muscles ache too much to even twitch. Her bones feel broken, and there’s an agony that throbs deep in her right shoulder.

_ I’m alive. I made it out for you… _

“Jade!” She hears in the distance.

_ …what’s your name? Goddammit, what’s your name? I can’t remember, I can’t remember, I can’t remember? I wasn’t supposed to forget! _

And while her palms burn, scraped, and probably bleeding, she remembers that the girl,  _ Fuck! I can’t remember her name, _ had written her name on her palm, so she uncurls her fingers, blinking quickly to clear the tears that had pooled at the pain.

It’s a mess of black with water flooding her vision, and she blinks, over and over and over again the words becoming clearer and clearer.

And then her heart drops.

Because there are three little words scrawled on her palm, and none of them even resemble the other girl’s name.

The smile falls from her face, and her hand closes into a light fist again, her vision blurring once more as her eyes prick.

She checks her writing once more to make sure she’s not mistaken.

It’s the telltale “I.” 

The single pronoun, the noun, the word, the single letter left out of their text conversations because of the weight it carries. Much like how  _ I’m sorry _ comes off as hundreds of times more sincere than a simple  _ sorry _ does, like how when it’s a coherent sentence, complete with the subject and the predicate, the gravity increases exponentially.

She stares at the tiny words that seem to be worlds in her palm, weighing it down towards the ground. Tears stream from her eyes freely, flowing down her cheeks as she begins to shake from the sobs that rip through her, tearing through any resolve she has left and leaving her chest convulsing as she sobs.

“This- this doesn’t help me remember your name at all, you  _ stupid, stupid,  _ girl.”

_ I love you. _

***

Jade opens her eyes in what seems to be the back of an ambulance.

She struggles to sit up. “Where am I?” she rasps.

“ _ Shhhh _ .” A gentle hand pushes her so she’s laying down, back pressed against the hard bed. “You’re in an ambulance.”

“Why?”

“There was an explosion. You were the last one out. You’re a little hurt, but mostly unharmed.”

“Oh.” It all comes rushing back to her, and she tucks her chin to glance at her tingling palm.

_ I love you _ , it says, and she eyes the handwriting. It’s familiar, but she’s unable to place it. She feels like something is missing. Like something has escaped her mind and left a hole in her heart.

“It’s a miracle. No one was left inside. No one got hurt.”

Pride swells in her chest for a bit, temporarily filling the hole in her chest for a little.  _ I did that. But why? For who? _

She just hums a response, her body fatigued, but her mind even more exhausted, so she just lets herself drift back into oblivion.

The next time she wakes up, she’s laying in a hospital bed, and there’s something so familiar about it that makes her chest ache.

She’s not sure what it is that seems so recognizable; she’s never been in a hospital, except for the time she had visited her brother moments after he was born.

“You’re awake.”

She turns her head. It’s her mom. She looks at her body, noting how her right arm has a cast on the forearm, accompanied by a sling that sits over her shoulder.

She’s not sure she can muster a word, so she turns questioningly to her mother.

“You dislocated your shoulder and sprained your wrist,” is the response. Despite the lack of emotion other than a little concern,  _ typical mother _ , she looks exhausted, the bags under her eyes a clear sign of that.

She just watches the television screen soundlessly, her body feeling drained, her heart unusually empty.

_ Maybe it’s because I don’t have a boyfriend anymore.  _

She shakes her head. She doesn’t even remember why they broke up, just that it feels final, unlike the couple of times they’ve taken a break in the past.

When Beck comes to visit her, she just smiles wearily and gives him a nod of acknowledgment. He’s not able to tell her anything she doesn’t already know, and it does nothing to fill the gap that has opened up inside of her.

She checks her PearPhone, which now has a cracked screen. It’s far from shattered, so it is still usable, but she runs the pad of her thumb over the jagged crack, telling herself she was the one who took the pain for everyone else.

She unlocks it with her password as of late, 8-6-7-4. She’s not completely why she had changed it from her name, 5-2-3-3, but the random combination of numbers brings her a little solace. It soothes the empty feeling in her heart just for a little second.

_ Maybe it spells out something that I forgot? _

She’s too exhausted to find a piece of paper and a pen to solve the mystery, knowing that there’s really only 81 possible letter combinations. For some reason, she can not bring herself to figure it out.

So she doesn’t.

A part of her knows she probably should’ve died from the explosion. A lot of people should’ve, but they didn’t.

The rest of her just wonders how they are so lucky. She’s the only one with any injuries, other than a couple fractured bones and sprained ankles while rapidly fleeing the scene of the explosion.

Jade is released from Peters Sinai later that day, stumbling out into the daylight on weak legs. The moment the car is turned on, the radio plays, already detailing the bombing that had just taken place mere hours ago.

“...a miracle. No one was inside when the bomb exploded; the fire alarm had been pulled… an absolute miracle… could’ve killed hundreds… no fatalities, although just a few people were injured…”

She tunes it out, her head falling against the window like it’s made of stone. The familiar world zooms by before her eyes, and she catches sight of the burning building, fires ravaging through what hadn’t been blown to shreds. It’s already roped off with yellow caution tape, first responders wandering the remains of the Hollywood Arts Center of Performing Arts.

She wrenches her gaze away, her eyes falling back on her open left palm.

_ Did Beck write that? No, it’s not his handwriting.  _

She stares at the three words, the  _ I love you _ , as if she stares at it long enough, she’ll find out why it’s there. 

Her gaze remains fixed on the rest of the way home, and she gets nothing from the smeared, already fading ink on her palm.

When she climbs out of the car, she closes her fingers around those three precious words she has not heard in a long time as if doing so could protect them, preserve the ink that’s bound to wash away soon enough.

_ Who would say that to me? Why is it there? _

She hops in the shower when she gets home, removing her sling and slipping a plastic bag around her cast as instructed.

She watches the remaining blood and grime swirl down the drain, dropping off her body.

When she finishes, she doesn’t feel any cleaner than when she started, but her body feels a little lighter. It’s not necessarily good; it feels like something’s missing. Something big, something that dropped off and swirled down the drain with the dirty water and soap.

Naked as the day she was born, she looks into the mirror, eyes highlighting her body, the curves and the edges, the scars and birthmarks. Her eyes look the same, maybe a little duller and sadder, but they’re still the ocean blue-green they’ve always been. It’s a little comfort, but for a moment, standing there, she wonders if she’d look better with chocolate brown eyes.

She thinks so.

Most people often long for blue or green eyes, orbs that are anything but the standard brown that results from a dominant allele in the gene that determines eye color. Not her. A part of her wants brown eyes in this instant, gazing at her own reflection in the mirror.

She feels like she’s staring at the wrong person.

The necklace that hangs from her neck gives her no answers.

The metal charm burns over her sternum, over her constantly beating heart.

It feels empty, even knowing she just helped save hundreds of people.

She lifts a tired hand, the one not in the cast, and picks up the metal charm, examining it closely. There are no words, no marks, no symbols that help her identify what it is or why she has it. It’s simply a metal circle, hanging on the string loosely.

She lets it drop and it hits her sternum and puts on her clothes with one hand. It’s much harder than it looks and seems, and she can’t seem to get the shirt around her sling, but when she finally does, her shoulder is throbbing.

At least she got her clothes on.

She really doesn’t know what do do next, as if she even has the energy, so she lays on her side uncomfortably, the sling in an awkward position, she begins to probe her mind for something.

It’s as if someone has taken away half her memories for the past months, and out of those days, she can only remember a couple. 

The thought that squeezing her eyes shut so she’s engulfed in darkness might help her think crosses her mind, and so she does just that, holding her unharmed hand over her eyes.

All she sees is a distinct brown color, but she can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. Letting out an audible groan, she clenches her teeth together and thinks.

She’s missing something. That’s all her mind is willing to tell her. There are no details about her because all she can pick up is a girl.

She scrolls through her PearPhone once more, checking her messages and emails, and even in her PearNotes app, but there’s nothing that tells her what exactly she’s forgetting.

It feels important.

It takes her about ten minutes to click through every single app downloaded on her phone, including, everything from Settings to Outstagram. There’s nothing. Nothing that will tell her what’s missing, what she’s forgetting.

_ What’s wrong with me? _

There’s a faint memory of her friends saying she has amnesia, but it doesn’t particularly stand out, and she lets it slip through her fingers because this amount of concentration is just draining her.

Jade does everything in her power to refrain from throwing her PearPhone against the wall as hard as she can. She wonders if it would dent.

She flops on her bed, checking all her conversations in PearMessages one last time, just to make sure she’s not missing something. She even asks Beck if anything interesting had taken place. 

His answer quiets her mind a little, but there is still an uneasy emptiness in her, like a dark pit inside of her that is yet to be filled.

It’s winter break the next week, and so she meets her friends at the nearby mall, feeling a little uneasy, but brushes it off as her near-death experience just the Friday before. She frowns when the bomber, Robbie, walks up to them, a hand in his pocket, Cat trailing behind him with a hesitant smile; they had not ratted him out to the authorities who inquired about the bomber.

He has… a puppet attached to his hand?

“Cat, what is the meaning of this?” She sighs exasperatedly when within earshot of the group. She doesn’t have the energy to complain because she feels like a black hole is eating her from the inside, stealing memories of happiness from the past few months.

She’s not sure the source of the happiness, and she huffs something intelligible about how she utterly loathes being happy.

“Oh, this is Robbie! Remember him? We got him a little puppet to sort out the voice in his head. He says it really helps!”

“His name’s Rex,” the aforementioned student chimes in, already looking a lot less hopeless than he did just several days ago.

“So… what?”

He shrugs, “It’s kinda nice to have this little guy speaking my thoughts. It’s not as loud, and doesn’t give me a headache.”

She pauses for a second, “And that  _ thing _ is just a puppet.”

“Hey! That’s an offensive term!”

“What?” she snorts, “Thing?”

“Puppet!” he cries, “He doesn’t like to be called a puppet!”

“Naw, it’s fine, Rob. Chill,” Rex says, and she can barely suppress an eye roll at the urban voice. The fact that he can speak with his mouth relatively unmoving somewhat impresses her, although she doesn’t show it except for a raised pair of eyebrows.

“ _ That’s _ the voice in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

She just looks at him incredulously before turning away. It’ll have to take some getting used to, but she’s too tired to object.

“What?”

She shrugs.

“Why do you have to be so mean?”

“Yeah!” Cat pipes in. The redhead hadn’t said a word in the last few minutes and Jade had almost forgotten she was there, which… never happened with her.

With a flourish, she grabs the scissors from her waistband, swinging it around her index finger once so it’s pointing the right direction, and points it at her abruptly She flinches back with a squeal, and the thespian lowers it slightly, “Okay. That… whole spiel on Friday… you’re probably never going to see that again.”

“Aw.”

Beck just pats him on the back, “Aw is right. Anyway…”

Jade doesn’t hear the rest because she’s already zoning out, fingers playing with her waistband absently. She’s too busy trying to remember why she’s feeling this way, just so darn empty. Fiddling with her fingers, an anxious habit doesn’t help, so she drops her hands by her sides and clenches them into tight fists, feeling her nails dig into her skin quite painfully. It’ll have to do.

It startles Robbie, who receives another pat on the back from her ex-boyfriend, “You’ll get used to that.”

She just snorts and glares at them both before stepping away. She hears the ventriloquist say once he thinks she’s out of earshot, “Is she always that scary?”

She whirls around, scissors practically materializing in her fingers with how fast she pulls them from her waistband, aiming the blades at him, “I could be worse.”

He just squeaks, and she saunters away, satisfied for a bit. There’s a weird something nibbling at her, however, and she shrugs it off, but it comes back stronger, nagging at her stomach.

_ Guilt? Eh, that boy’s been through some shit. Maybe I should be nice- whoa, where did that come from? _

She blinks rapidly, her feet having stopped for a second, trying to clear the weird thoughts that randomly ambush her out of nowhere.

_ When did I care about other people? Ugh, I’m getting soft. _

The rest of the day passes, and she walks through the mall dejectedly, head propped up on her hands, trying to fight the churning tornado that’s brewing in her stomach. Even buying the largest cinnamon cold-brew (she’s not sure why she needs the cinnamon and if she’s ever ordered it, but it’s, strangely enough, an instinct.) from her favorite coffee shop at the mall doesn’t help.

* * *

Tori wakes up with a gasp out of nowhere, and she sits up, glancing around wildly as her heart takes its time to slow from the rapid pounding she had woken up with.

She’s not sure what she’s expecting, but her room is normal. It’s been like that for a year now when she decided to redecorate her room more purple in the eighth grade.

_ It’s winter break, _ is the sole thought that flashes through her mind and she leans backward slowly, before stretching her arms above her head, cracking her back unceremoniously yet satisfyingly.

She glances at the clock— it’s almost eleven, which is much later than usual, even on break, and she’s gotten eleven hours of sleep, but somehow, she’s still  _ so tired. _

Her eyelids droop, and her hand immediately reaches for the nightstand, feeling around until she finds the cold blades of a pair of scissors. Just something she probably accidentally left out the day before, and now, she had to put it back.

She’s not sure why it makes her feel so much better, but it’s enough to get her out of bed and into the bathroom to do her morning routine. She’s still tired, however, and she does things quickly, hopping downstairs for a cup of orange juice and a donut.

Her parents aren’t home, and it’s not like they’re ever home, so she plops down onto her bright red couch heavily and switches on the television, munching on her breakfast.

It hits her like lightning when the words “switching bodies” comes on, and she bolts upright, eyes wide, back straight, staring at the screen until she realizes it’s just a sci-fi show. 

Tori probes her mind for anything related to those two words, and the only thing that comes up is something about being claustrophobic… and a bucket over her head as if that does anything to help.

By noon, after she’s eaten her lunch, a small meal consisting of a ham and cheese sandwich and a microwave mini pizza, she sets out for coffee, because hopefully, it’ll fix her exhaustion.

Tori finds herself in the middle of a Jet Brew, miles from her home because her half-asleep brain takes the wrong bus, and she’s in Hollywood, not Sherwood.

_ Oh well, I might meet a celebrity. _ She giggles maniacally at the thought, causing a few people around her to glace towards her with a strange look.

“Cat?” The barista calls out, reading the cup of what appears to be hot chocolate, and sets it down.

She frowns at the name, even more, when a bouncing girl comes forward to claim her drink. 

“Cat,” she murmurs, testing out the name in her mouth, “Catrina? Catarina?”

She remembers nothing in particular, but it leaves an uneasy feeling stirring inside of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blep, i hope this was decent... idk how i feel about this fic anymore... 
> 
> <3


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the unofficial ending...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I FEEL LIKE I OWE EVERYONE A HUGE APOLOGY 
> 
> I'M SO SO SO SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LIFE IS STRESSFUL BUT THIS IS FINALLY HERE BECAUSE I SOMEHOW FOUND THE TIME TO WRITE IT IN THE MIDST OF FALLING BEHIND IN SUPERCORPTOBER
> 
> also, please go read my supercorptober fic... both of ours, actually :p
> 
> (for the record, I'm thewaterymellen, the person who wrote like maybe 72k words out of the total?? haylssunflowerx really helped though :D))
> 
> aaaaand this chapter is unedited because I'm lazy af

Tori’s eyes snap up to the redhead, who picks up the drink and sets it back down, asking for whipped cream, and when he adds it, she claps enthusiastically and licks it, getting a bit on her nose.

She squints at the girl, noting her carefree demeanor. For a second, she wishes she could live like that, without a care in the world, and then she feels a punch to the gut for absolutely no reason.

_Have I seen her before? Huh. Must be the red hair._

By the time Cat and her group of friends have left the shop, chattering loudly, Tori finds herself wondering why the name brings back memories of something she’s clearly never had.

She’s coffee-deprived, and the bartender and this extremely full Jet Brew still haven’t made her order yet, so she slumps onto the table, too tired to continue sifting her brain for memories.

“Beck?” The bartender calls again, and a handsome boy with long, wavy hair approaches the counter and takes his coffee, nodding a _thank you_ to the lady working at the machines, and her response is a slight giggle.

At least three more orders are called out before hers, and all she ordered was a coffee! A plain, dark, black coffee with two sugars that she would put in herself.

Her eyes drift back to the girl named Cat when she laughs loudly, and she sees her with Beck and another two boys and a girl, walking out the door of the Jet Brew. 

Before they can disappear around the corner, she squints at them, trying to point out what’s so familiar with them and their names, but she can’t get more than something about a sapphire. Or some stone.

When the door closes with the soft ring of a bell, she turns back around and slumps her head into her hands. She’s tired and she needs coffee, and she’s yawning and the three weirdly familiar teenagers are well out of her mind.

“Tori?”

Her head snaps up immediately. _Yes, give me my coffee now._

She nods a tired _thank you_ to the barista and proceeds to dump in two packets of sugar. She doesn’t taste it to see if it’s sweet enough; it’s enough for her.

She takes her first sip just as she steps outside, it’s bitter, _really_ bitter, but she can’t bring herself to spit it out, or even wince. She likes the bitterness, and it’s so new to her, she wonders what happened and why she had put only two packets of sugar to her usual four or five with cream.

She sips at it again, letting the bitter taste wash over her tongue, and her lips pucker at the lack of sugar, but she continues drinking it anyway, wondering how she switched over from super-sweet coffee to this.

The thought reminds her of the weird feeling in her chest; it’s there so often it’s become almost normal, but she’s never gotten used to it. It’s like a hole, an emptiness that likes to remind her it’s there every once in a while.

Tori feels like she’s searching, but for what, for who, she doesn’t know. Her life feels like a constant quest to find something that will finally fill the cold cavity in her chest. Maybe it’s her heart. She feels like her heart is gone.

Someone stole it, maybe. She doesn’t remember anyone she’d willingly give it away to.

***

The next time she sees the group of people, she’s walking out of a restaurant. Nozu, to be exact. She stretches as she slips off the barstool, picking up the change that comes back with the receipt. She leaves the coins and slips the dollar bills into her wallet, then makes sure she didn’t drop anything while eating.

She waves to the owner of the restaurant, Mrs. Lee, who had seen her so much she had begun to give her random free deserts. Tori doesn’t remember the first time she met the woman, but she knows she was visiting Hollywood for no particular reason. Maybe to pick up Trina?

The jingle of the bell that hangs from the door interrupts her train of thought, and she blinks, and it’s gone. She shakes her head, slipping the strap of her purse on her shoulder, and pushes her way to the door. 

She frowns as she searches her memories again, but it’s faint. _Eh, in another life…_

A yelp escapes her mouth when her shoulder is jostled roughly when one of the newcomers pushes past, and she blurts out an apology the same time the other girl snaps at her.

“Watch where you’re go-”

She stammers for a response other than _Sorry, oh my God, I am so sorry!_ but finds that her mouth is left hanging open and she’s gawping like a fish because, _damn_ , the girl in front of her is stunning, and she’s beautiful and pretty and gorgeous and she’s just so breathtakingly attractive and it should be illegal to be this pretty.

The other girl is staring at her too, and there’s a jolt deep in her stomach so strong she almost stumbles forward. But her friends herd her along before she has a chance to take more than one look at her face, and _hey look, isn’t that redhead Cat?_ and then she’s gone, her body lost in the sea of other customers.

She shakes her head at the weird churning in her stomach and walks out, hand moving automatically with her shirt collar to fiddle with it like she expects something else to be there. It’s a habit, and sometimes, she’ll wear a necklace so her fingers have something to do when she’s anxious, but it never helps, and being Tori, she would always lose the necklace, chain and all.

Her sister stumbles out of the front doors, hands still wet from washing them, “I thought you left me!”

She scoffs, “At least I paid. C’mon, Treen, let’s go home.”

***

Jade almost screams when someone crashes into her shoulder at Nozu because _God, there are so many people today_ , and it’s not a particularly good day for her. Actually, she hasn’t had a decent day for weeks now, and she’s getting angry and cranky, feeling like she’s looking for something she’ll never find. She whirls around, eyes glittering with impatience, a retort already halfway flying out of her mouth when the rapid panicked apologies are yelped right into her ear.

She stops midsentence when she hears the voice, and there’s something about it, albeit panicked and high-pitched, that makes her stomach drop. And those doe eyes widen and for some reason, her hand flies to her throat. The chain of her necklace is cool, and it’s only a split second before she’s whisked along by her friends.

Her mind is occupied with the girl she ran into all throughout lunch, and when they leave the sushi restaurant, Beck just frowns at her, “What’s up with you today?”

She resorts to her default response, “Didn’t sleep well. I need coffee,” she mutters, already striding quickly in the direction of Jet Brew a block over, leaving her friends no choice but to follow her.

Instead of plain coffee, she orders a caramel macchiato, needing the sugar and caffeine to get through the day. Their drinks finally come, and they settle into a table near the entrance, sipping at their hot beverages and making small talk.

At some point, Beck picks up her drink and takes a little sip, something he used to do when they were dating. The habit hasn’t been broken, but oddly enough, she’s fine with it.

He chokes a little, the lighter-than-usual liquid trickling down his chin, “ _God_ , what is that?”

“Caramel macchiato,” she answers distractedly.

“Why would you order that? It’s so… sweet. What the hell, Jade? What about your usual black coffee?”

She just shrugs. She’s not sure she has an answer to that question, why she stopped drinking her usual black coffee. “I like this.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Well, I do now. End of story.”

They don’t question her when her tone becomes low and dangerous. It’s always been like that.

She takes another sip, sighing at the way the sweetness seems to temporarily fill the gap in her chest, even if just for a little. It’s better than the emptiness and wondering what she’s missing.

_Maybe it’s Beck. Maybe letting him break up with me was a bad idea._

She kisses him, presses her lips to his for a quick second, not even caring when her friends gasp.

He kisses back, as usual, but his eyes are open and his brows are furrowed in confusion.

“What was that?” He blinks in bewilderment when she pulls away.

Jade stands up, slinging her purse over her shoulder, “Just checking something.”

Nothing. She felt nothing.

Not the slight fluttery feeling in her stomach she had expected, not the spike in her heart rate. In fact, it makes her feel worse.

She walks away.

She doesn’t talk about it when she returns to school the following Monday. Or the one after. Or ever.

She just says the Great Showcase is coming up this weekend and throws herself into writing a song she scraps when the words turn out soft, too soft. 

When did she become like this?

In the end, she just chooses a song she already knows, a song that speaks her heart. But it’s nothing special.

When she steps out on the stage, she notices how the auditorium is different, how the details are no longer the same. It had been blown up last year, but somehow, everyone had managed to get out.

Just another thing she can’t remember the details of.

It smells different. It looks different. Her voice sounds different to her ears and the music tastes different on her tongue. The lights are warmer, and the room is darker.

And she feels like she’s home.

She nods to the audience when the final note trails off, the applause giving her a little of the validation she longs for. For some reason, it’s not enough today.

There’s a nod of approval from Sikowitz, from Lane, from Beck, from Cat, Andre, and Robbie when she steps off the stage, silently handing the microphone to a member of the stage crew.

Cat gives her a massive hug she shrugs off, already heading to the dressing room so she can just grab her water and leave.

She changes back into her regular clothes, slings her purse over her shoulder and grabs her plastic water bottle, about to head out when Beck stops her.

“Jade! I thought you were leaving with us? You said you’d stay.”

“I don’t feel well,” she says bluntly, “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, you’re leaving already?” Cat bounces up to her, giving her a pleading look. “Please stay.”

“I just want to go home.”

“C’mon, Jade, stay?” Andre presses his hands together. “We can all go out for coffee or ice cream after.”

She hesitates, and Andre is whisked away by a stage crew member, presumably for his performance.

“Come on,” Beck nudges her, “You have to stop avoiding us eventually.”

“I’m not avoiding you!”

“You never leave the house outside of school anymore. That can’t be healthy.”

“Who are you to dictate whether what I do is healthy or not?”

He’s about to answer her retort when there’s a sudden, shrill wail.

“What was that?”

Beck grimaces, “Trina Vega.”

Cat gasps and turns to face the commotion. Trina, in her striped turquoise and white dress, stands, hands frantically fanning her face, a bulge in her mouth. _Is that her tongue_?

“Oh my God,” Jade utters, biting back a laugh, “I have to record this.”

“Jade.” Beck shoots her a look.

“Fine. Can we go see this from the audience? I need to see this.”

Beck ponders it, “Let’s go.”

The three of them head down to the audience, creeping up the side so that they end up at the very back by the exits, hidden in shadow.

There’s more rustling and common from backstage, and Jade just leans back, amused.

“Let go of me! What are you doing? No, no, no, no, I said let go of me, please! No, please…”

The girl on stage trails off the moment she realizes where she’s standing.

Jade holds her PearPhone at eye level, a smirk on her face. Clearly, this is someone substituting for Trina.

“ _Here I am, once again_ …”

Jade’s heart stops.

Her finger stops the recording, and her hand slowly drops.

_What? Who is she?_

“Jade,” Beck hisses as she steps forward.

She ignores him, walking to the side, against the wall so she can have a closer view.

The girl on stage begins to dance as the music picks up, and Jade’s standing in a spot that’s too dark for the girl to see. But her head flings to the left at one point, and she almost gasps when it seems like she’s looking directly at her.

Brown eyes, gazing right at her…

She shakes herself. Her heart pounds rapidly in her chest and she can feel her breath hitch as the performer continues to sing, her voice melodic and beautiful.

A hand on her shoulder makes her jump. She whirls around to see Beck beside her, eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Do we know her?”

“I… don’t think so? Looks a little, familiar don’t you think?’

“That’s what I thought!”

The girl’s movements are fluid and her voice is strong, and her smile, oh my _God_ her smile is stunning. Judging by her reaction to being pushed on stage, she’s never performed, but she looks natural, at home.

The song ends and the audience bursts into applause. People, the girl’s family, students, and teachers alike rush out onto the stage, and Andre pulls the girl into a hug.

Something simmers in her blood.

They’re all clapping and standing, but Jade just pushes her way through the door in the side and walks up the stairs to the stage.

By the time she gets there, the girl is changing out of her glittery outfit, and Jade just stands there, oddly restless. Her heart pounds in her chest and _why am I nervous?_

“Hey.”

Her head snaps up and her gaze meets the other girl’s.

Brown eyes, brown hair, high cheekbones, ridiculously beautiful… 

Their eyes meet and Jade hears the singer’s breath hitch.

“Hey,” she responds evenly, or tries to, but her voice wobbles.

Silence.

“Um, I guess, I should… go now,” the girl mutters awkwardly after a solid minute of uncomfortable feet shuffling and fidgeting.

Jade nods wordlessly, and it isn’t until her heart drops does she realize the empty feeling is gone.

“Wait!” she almost yells, and the brunette pauses at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Have we met?” Her breathing is shallow, fast.

She’s met with a smile, such a gorgeous smile, and those chocolate brown eyes fill with tears, “I thought so, too,” she whispers.

“I, uh…” Jade trails off, not knowing what to say.

They just gaze at each other wordlessly, then. Tori blinks once and the tears spill from her eyes.

Jade draws in a shuddering breath and moisture beads in her eyes, and she’s not even sure why she’s crying. She lets out a wet laugh before they both speak at the same time.

“What’s your name?”

“What’s your name?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS THIS ISN'T OVER
> 
> I PROMISE WE WILL WRITE AND RELEASE AN EPILOGUE OF SORTS SO IT DOESN'T LEAVE OFF ON THIS CLIFFHANGER LIKE THE MOVIE DOES
> 
> OUR DORKS WILL GET THEIR HAPPY ENDING... YOU MIGHT JUST HAVE TO WAIT A BIT


End file.
